


Hewitched

by lizzywinks



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-11
Updated: 2011-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzywinks/pseuds/lizzywinks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Jared's last two movies flopped, suddenly the only offers he's getting are for TV, the latest to star in a remake of the classic show "Bewitched". When he unknowingly casts a real witch in the role of Samantha, his problems are only just beginning because Jared needs an assistant, and Danneel has a cousin who would be perfect for the job. (<i>Very</i> loosely based on the movie/TV show Bewitched.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hewitched

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SPN_J2_Bigbang 2011. Art by [Tringic](http://tringic.livejournal.com/35129.html)

"Um, Mr. Padalecki?"

Jared holds out his hand, not raising his eyes from his script and waits for the hot coffee he'd just been thinking about to slide into his grasp. There's not a single doubt in his mind it will happen—Genevieve is a pretty good assistant, Chad chose well this time, but even Jared's most hopeless assistants—Anita or, god help him, Claudia with her inability to keep more than one thing in her head for more than sixty seconds at a time—knew not to screw up his coffee order.

The tense silence registers at about the same time the lack of fragrant coffee aroma does. Jared lowers his script and lifts his gaze to find one of the PAs, who he couldn't name if he had a gun to his head, standing in front of him, shifting awkwardly on his feet.

"Hi, um, sir, I have a message from your assistant. Um, from Genevieve? Dark hair, kinda short?" He raises his hand to his own, already short, shoulder height and looks hopeful that a name and vague approximation of size will be sufficient description for the missing assistant.

"Yeah, I know who my assistant is..." Jared wrestles with his memory for a moment, attempting to drag the PA's name up from his boots. He gives up when he remembers Chad's insistence that trying to be the nice guy on a TV set was a one way ticket to loserville. "...Kid. What I don't know is where she is or why I'm not drinking my morning coffee right now."

"She said that you're, er, that is, she thinks that maybe you..." The kid stumbles to a halt and pulls fretfully at the crumpled piece of paper he's holding in his hand. 

"Jesus, spit it out would you?"

"Genevieve said to tell you that you're a rat-bastard son of a bitch who deserves to die a horrible death, preferably live on a reality TV show while millions gather to point and laugh."

"Oh." Jared blinks. "So is she coming in late or...?"

"Um." The kid uncrumples the paper and scans it, eyes jumping frantically from side to side. "It doesn't say, but I think probably no?"

Jared sighs. He knew he shouldn't have slept with her. He hadn't even meant to, but after she'd arrived on set last night close to midnight with his dry cleaning in one hand and his dog's leash in the other he'd felt kinda bad, and unfortunately Chad hadn't been around to talk him out of it. When she'd also let it slip it was her birthday, he'd felt shitty enough to try to make up for making her work by taking her out for drinks. Four drinks in, it'd been pretty obvious she was expecting him to make a move on her. By that point the tequila had been going down smooth enough that it didn't seem like the worst idea ever, which was how he found himself three hours later fucking her awkwardly on the pixie-sized sofa in her apartment, trying to avoid his back seizing up on him while he bent himself into a pretzel and kept his gaze averted from the collection of family photos giving him the stink eye from the end table.

He doesn't remember much after that, but when he woke up, he was alone, so he'd sent up a quick prayer of thanks and gotten the hell out of there as fast as his fucked-up spine would allow. The sex itself went kind of okay, he thinks, so he assumes it was probably the post-coital conversation that went badly. Given more than one of his ex-fiancée’s numerous rants on the subject, probably very badly. Is it his fault sex makes him sleepy, and shuts down whatever small amount of self-censorship he's capable of? How can anyone be expected to remember to say all the right things when only half of his brain is on the clock anyway? Also, Jared just isn't a snuggler, and he's never really understood why anyone would want him to be. He breaks a sweat just reaching for the deodorant; even he admits he's kind of clammy to be around. If he was the girl, he'd be glad to have an excuse to hit the shower guilt free while his slippery, and okay, none-too-fresh smelling partner snoozed.

"I think probably no, too," Jared finally concedes sadly. He really does need an assistant; he has no idea where his dry cleaner is, or even how many sugars he takes in his coffee for that matter. Speaking of which... "Hey, kid, do you know how I take my coffee?"

"Um, sure," the kid says, looking cautiously delighted by the apparently easy question. "It's posted over in craft services."

Jared relaxes back into his chair with a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

*~*

Danneel is perfect to play Samantha. Jared still can't believe his good luck in stumbling across her in the bookshop like that. If he'd been a more suspicious kind of a guy, he would have said it was too perfect: the cut-in camera shot of the lower half of her face through the tiny sliver of a gap between shelves, the good timing of that almost identical nose twitch, and then finally the ability to drop everything and take the role. Suspicions aside, casting had been going crappily enough that he wasn't about to question any of it too closely. 

Although Danneel swears she's never acted before, she's scary good at it. If he's being honest, Jared knows he's flubbing more lines than she is, and the rehearsals are going smoother than any he's ever known before. The only problem he really has is that Danneel is a little bit intimidating. Sometimes he feels like the novice around her. His one consolation is that everyone seems to feel the same way; even Chad doesn't fuck around with Danneel, and Chad fucks around with _everyone_.

"So, Jared, where's your little assistant?"

Jared shifts in his chair, and looks up from his game of Angry Birds. They're waiting on the lighting guys to finish up, and then they'll be shooting the scene were Darrin discovers Samantha's a witch. It's the first shot of the pilot, and Jared, even with all his years of first days, new projects, and new co-stars, can feel his stomach churning: a mixture of panic and adrenaline chasing through his veins. 

Danneel looks as cool as a cucumber, cell phone in her hand as she skims through her messages. Jared glances briefly down at the paused screen of his own phone. It's a little galling. Especially as all the jittering is messing up his aim.

"She quit. No one knows why," he adds quickly. "Chad's interviewing for a replacement, but in the meantime I'm having to make do with Gabe." Jared nods his head in the direction of the twitchy PA, hand written name badge firmly fixed to his chest, who's watching them with fixed intensity. His hand is poised over the coffee urn and he's bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, as if he's waiting for the starting pistol in a hundred meter dash.

Danneel directs her gaze briefly toward Gabe, a frown crinkling her brow. "He seems... eager," she allows, attention immediately back on her phone.

"Yeah, he's definitely that." Jared angles his head slightly to the side so that Gabe won't be able to read his lips. He actually has no idea whether Gabe can read lips, but he has creepy stalker written all over him. Knowing what someone was saying out of earshot seemed like the sort of skill you picked up after enough time spent watching people from behind conveniently placed bushes. Or through a telephoto lens. 

Jared had woken from his nap on the couch in his trailer earlier in the day to find Gabe's face looming only inches from his own. Through Jared's startled yelling, Gabe had sworn blind he thought he'd heard Jared muttering his name when he went to wake him as arranged. After his heart rate had decelerated to a more manageable thump, Jared was pretty sure Gabe had actually been trying to cut off a piece of his hair, or maybe even collect a little bit of his drool. Either way, Jared spent the best part of an hour figuring out how to set up a search on eBay for his name combined with an auction item that was fluid or bodily related.

He might also have set up a couple of fake accounts just in case the final sale price needed a little nudging. It would be humiliating if an actual piece of him came up for sale and it didn't result in a bidding war.

"So, Jared," Danneel says, interrupting his thoughts on bidding strategies. "Explain to me why you aren't hiring your own assistant?"

"Oh. Well, I guess I'm not really good at that kind of thing, and Chad says it's easier if he does it. Plus I am kind of busy. It just makes sense."

Danneel's gaze flickers briefly over to his paused game, but she doesn't mention his obvious, excessive, amounts of free time beyond a vague raising of an eyebrow. "Huh, so you can't tell if you're going to be able to work with someone until your manager tells you you can? Seems like you did okay when you found me."

Jared shrugs, and hopes the movement doesn't look as defensive as it feels. "I can, I mean, of course I can, but I can be pretty impulsive, and there's always someone ready to sucker you in with a sob story. It's really easy for celebrities to get taken advantage of—you'll need to be careful of that if the show's a hit. I mean, television star isn't in the same league as movie star, and you'll probably never be on the same level as me, fame-wise, but even so..."

"Yeah." Danneel's grin reminds Jared suddenly of the sleek orange cat that belonged to the old lady who lived next door to his childhood home, superior and amused as it toyed with a mouse, letting the tiny creature think it had a chance before tossing it high in the air and batting it back down to the ground. "I can imagine. Pretty sure I'll be okay though."

"Okay, well," Jared hesitates, suddenly uncertain that there's anything he can teach Danneel. Even though he is definitely always going to be more famous. "If you need any advice—"

"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind." Danneel's phone lets out a goodbye trill as she shuts it off, and she swivels on her seat to face him fully. "But you know what I think? I think you don't give yourself enough credit—you're an excellent judge of character. I mean, hello, Exhibit A sitting right beside you. Plus, I know it wasn't as easy as you made out, but you still didn't let the network tell you I was too big a risk to take on."

"That's because they knew you were perfect, too—they just hate it when someone else does their job for them. Makes them worried people might figure out that a monkey in a suit could pretty much do what they do."

Danneel smiles, unusually soft and fond. "My Uncle Alan once spent an entire summer as a capuchin monkey. He said it was an accident, but it was about the same time my aunt took up ballroom dancing, so no one ever really bought it. Personally, I always thought it was less about avoiding sequins and more about how much he loved that tiny fez."

Jared waits for the punchline, and then waits a little longer. When it finally dawns on him that nothing's coming, he grins weakly. He knows the studio arranged for acting lessons for Danneel, even though he's less sure that she actually took any. Either way, she's sometimes a little too method for comfort. Danneel still seems lost in her fake memories of her uncle and his passion for miniature exotic headwear, and possibly bananas, so Jared lets out a muffled cough. 

"Sorry," Danneel says, blinking up at him almost in surprise. "Anyway, maybe you're right, but my point still stands; if you hired your own assistant, you'd be able to find someone who was your type instead of Chad's."

Jared shakes his head. Sure, Chad definitely has a type: generally small, curvy brunettes. And maybe it’s true that most of the assistants Jared has had over the past few years have ended up in Chad's bed—and shortly thereafter out of a job, always by their own choice as most women have a pretty low tolerance for his manager and friend once he’s over his initial charm and best-behavior phase—but that doesn't mean Chad is using Jared’s assistants as a way to get laid. Jared pauses to consider that for a moment. Probably it doesn't mean that Chad is using Jared's assistants as a way to get laid.

And even if he was— "As it happens Genevieve _was_ my type. That's kind of the reason I'm in this mess right now."

Danneel lets out a husky laugh that tapers off into a frown when Jared stares blankly back at her. When he raises an eyebrow at her, Danneel leans forward and presses her palm, fingers spread, to his chest, her head cocked thoughtfully to one side. Bizarrely, despite his looks (and talent and fame) Danneel's never shown an ounce of interest in him. Other than a quick tinge of pique, Jared has mostly just felt relieved—casting had been hard enough without having to start over once sex inevitably soured relations between them—so her sudden desire to cop a feel is basically just confusing. 

Danneel lets out another soft laugh at Jared's furrowed brow.

"Oh, Jared, I'm sorry. It's just really sweet that you think that."

Jared frowns harder. He isn't stupid, not by a long shot, even if his child modeling career evolving into acting meant he hadn't had time for college and had only graduated high school because his mama felt guilty and insisted. But he knows that lots of people—most people—underestimate him, and think his movie-star looks and sculpted body means the only muscles he's ever bothered cultivating are below the neck. Jared stiffens, and sits back in his chair, dislodging Danneel's hand still resting on his chest. Chad was right. Getting too friendly with co-stars and crew is always a mistake.

Danneel's laughter dries up, and she reaches out to take his hand in hers. Jared stifles the childish urge to yank it back.

"Hey, no, I wasn't laughing at you," she says, looking briefly worried that she might have offended him. It's the first time Jared's seen her looking anything but self-assured.

Jared shrugs and forces a wide grin. "Hell, plenty to laugh at, I know."

"No, seriously, I wasn't laughing at you, it's just..."

Jared watches, feeling his jaw beginning to ache from holding his smile fixed in position for so long. Danneel sighs and pats his hand twice before releasing him. 

"Okay, look, never mind. But I was serious about you hiring your own assistant."

"Yeah, maybe. I'll think about it." Jared thumbs off his phone. He doesn't feel much like playing any more; it is kind of dumb. "Think I'm just gonna go see how much longer before we're needed."

"No, Jared, hang on a second. What I was going to say is that I think I might be able to help you with that; I have a cousin who's new in town looking for a job."

Jared sinks back into his chair, relieved to finally understand what the conversation has been about. "And you want me to give her a job?" The smile on his lips turns cynical, before a thought occurs to him, derailing his plans for a very firm _thanks, but no thanks_. "Hey, wait, does she look anything like you? Because that would be so cool! Do you remember when Samantha's cousin used to show up? I loved those episodes! And Serena was way hotter than Samantha, which I know is crazy because they were both her. Has your cousin ever acted? We could talk to the writers about starting work on some Serena episodes. And best of all, we wouldn't need to spend a dime on CGI!"

"Wow," Danneel says, already shaking her head, "you really have a geek on for the show, don't you? Sorry to disappoint, but we don't look anything alike. Plus, trust me, in this version I'm the wicked cousin and Jen's the sweet one, and definitely not the actor. What I meant was that Jen would be the perfect _assistant_ for you."

Jared bites his lip, still caught up in the idea of introducing Serena into the cast. It would be a bitch to film, but even so—

"So how about it, Jared? Can I set up a meeting?"

"Huh? Oh, um, sure, why not?" He can always say no after he's met her. Never hurts to keep his costars happy, after all.

*~*

"So, Jen is short for...?"

Jared watches curiously as the other man blinks back at him. He looks a little stunned, eyes wide as he gazes around the studio set Danneel had delivered him to with the air of a magician producing a rabbit from a hat, and then disappearing the second Jared took his eyes off her. 

"Jensen. I thought... didn't Danni—" Jensen, _apparently_ , stumbles to a halt as an eight-foot-long hotdog in a bun is wheeled past them. "Wow. That is one big wiener."

Jared snorts, and Jensen's glance swings back toward him. He still looks faintly shell-shocked, and something almost like disappointed, but his own lips begin to twitch when he catches sight of Jared's expression. "And I'm guessing from your expression I'm not the only one surprised by the appearance of a giant wiener today."

Jared grins, and glances down at the résumé in his hand. "Giant? I think if this was my résumé, I'd have that listed above my name. In bold. Not," he hurriedly adds, face beginning to warm, "that I'm saying I'm _small_ , or that you need to know that, but for the record I'm not, um—"

"A freak of nature?" Jensen supplies, looking more relaxed. A half grin briefly curves his lips before he schools his face into more formal lines and holds out his hand. "Good to know, Mr. Padalecki. I'm Jensen Ackles, Danneel's cousin, which I think you already knew, and, yes, I am male, which I think you probably didn't."

"To be fair," Jared allows, enjoying the dry warmth of Jensen's grip. "I don't think she ever called you Jenny, I just assumed. And, dude, we've already basically compared the size of our genitals; I think we're past the point of formality; call me Jared."

Jensen pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his red, sneaker-clad feet shuffling awkwardly on the floor. "Okay, Jared, and sorry for the mix-up. Danni has an... odd sense of humor. Seriously, though, if you aren't looking to hire a guy, I can get out of your way now...?"

Jared finds himself shaking his head forcefully before he even realizes he's going to do it. They've only just met, but already he's pretty sure he likes Jensen. He allows himself a minute of doubt, because really, he isn't good at this kind of thing, and then disregards it when Jensen just watches him calmly, bright green eyes gleaming under soot-black lashes. Strike that. He's _sure_ he likes Jensen.

"No, it's fine, but I guess I still need to interview you? I mean, I know you're Danni's cousin, but I should probably ask you a couple of questions. Or you know, any."

"Okay, go for it. I mean, I thought I kind of aced that 'What's Jen short for?' opener, but I figured it wouldn't be that simple."

"Awesome. But just so you know, you really are blowing the competition right out of the water right now."

"And by that, I take it that I'm the first person you've interviewed?"

Jared inclines his head. "You take it correctly. Okay, so have you done this kind of thing before?"

"Um, no."

"Oh," Jared pauses, slightly thrown. "But you've done something similar?"

"Okay, right." Jensen lifts a hand to scrub at the back of his neck. "That would also be a no."

"So what made you decide to come and meet with me, because I have to assume your childhood dreams didn't involve growing up to be someone's assistant?"

"Coffee, Mr. Padalecki?"

Jared jumps. He's been so focused on the way Jensen's been gnawing worriedly on his lower lip, eyes soft and unfocused as he considers his response, that Jared's completely missed Gabe's approach. He bites back a frustrated sound when Jensen's gaze sharpens and fixes on a point somewhere just behind him. Jared spins on his heel to find Gabe hovering at his elbow, steaming cup grasped in his outstretched hand. 

"Gabe, what the hell...? Never mind. No, no coffee, unless... Jensen, do you want a coffee?

Gabe looks horrified, and pulls the huge, insulated mug possessively back toward his chest. "But, Mr. Padalecki, this is your special mug! You said it was my job to guard it at all times—"

"I did not!" Jared breaks in hurriedly, a flush of embarrassment heating his skin. Jensen raises an eyebrow, and Jared feels the blush deepen. "It's just a mug! I _may_ have mentioned once being careful not to break it—"

"No, sir, you definitely said—"

"Gabe! Can you just, just go over, um, there." Jared points to a random spot on the far side of the set. Gabe's gaze follows the tip of his finger to the shadowed area filled with equipment and cables. His mouth droops unhappily. "Go on," Jared insists, making small, shooing motions with his fingers when Gabe looks set to linger.

Jensen, Jared is almost painfully aware, has been watching curiously but blissfully silently up to this point. At the sight of Gabe's crestfallen expression, though, he takes a step forward and holds out his hand. Gabe takes it cautiously, as if he suspects he's about to be pranked. 

"Good to meet you," Jensen says. Gabe pulls his hand back slightly quicker than is polite, and then pushes on through to full out impolite by wiping it fastidiously on the seat of his pants. Jensen stares down at his own hand, puzzled, and then back up at Gabe, slightly less warmth in his expression now. "And sorry if I'm screwing with your schedule. If it's any consolation I guess if Jared hires me as his assistant, you'll be off coffee duty."

Gabe's eyes round in betrayal. "New assistant? But—but I thought I..."

Jared frowns down at Gabe when he stumbles to a stop. Gabe has been odd from the get-go, but given a choice between doing his own fetching and carrying or having an assistant, even a weird, potentially _breaking news at eleven_ kind of assistant, it was pretty much a no-brainer for Jared.

Mostly he doesn't care anyway; Jared gives his assistant a list of things he needs doing, and they get done. Usually the person carrying out his chores is a little more personable, and definitely easier on the eye, but basically it's the perfect arrangement as far as Jared is concerned. He has money, but no time or inclination for the minutiae that ensure the smooth running of his life, and people like Gabe have time but no money. Comparatively speaking, anyway. The way Jared sees it, having an assistant is kind of like those little birds in Africa that pick the meat out of the crocodile's teeth. Win-win.

So, while normally he barely even notices who's doing the work until they screw up—or move on, and he has to go through _another_ round of introductions, and waiting for them to get good and figuring out how he likes everything—suddenly now, for some reason, he's very aware of how this might look to an outsider. Because if Jared associates with crazy people, then maybe he's a little crazy too.

When he sneaks a glance over at Jensen though, Jensen doesn't look like he's ready to run. He's studying Gabe closely, a considering expression on his face, but no sign he's regretting showing up, which means Jared's still got time to save this.

"Seriously, Gabe," he says hurriedly. "We're right in the middle of something here. So if you could..." he tilts his head meaningfully across the room. Gabe looks as if he's about to speak, but although his lips form words, no sound emerges. His mouth closes shut with a snap when Jared minutely shakes his head. With a heavy sigh, Gabe turns and makes his way slowly across the floor, shoulders slumped and taking several long looks behind him, as though he's hoping Jared is going to change his mind and call him back.

"Sorry about that," Jared turns to Jensen to say, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake out the awkward.

"No problem. The little guy seems to be pretty... devoted to you. You must be a good boss."

"Thanks." Jared's face seems to be having difficulty holding in the beaming grin that wants to break free. He likes being praised, likes it even when he doesn't actually deserve it. After all, there are plenty of times when he _does_ deserve it and gets completely overlooked—the empty, trophy sized, glass cabinet in his media room springs immediately to mind—but usually he can keep a lid on it. Can at least act humble, even when he's totally not feeling it.

For some reason, he's having trouble today. He pauses to rake carefully casual fingers through his hair until he's back under control and then turns to face Jensen. "I mean, he is pretty dedicated, but I didn't actually hire him or anything; he's a studio employee. He's just been helping out since my last assistant, um, moved on." Jared feels a flicker of something tingle up his spine as he remembers why Genevieve had left, and why hiring someone there was no risk of him accidentally sleeping with was a really smart idea. 

Jensen seems distracted by something out of Jared's line of sight. From the weird, prickling sensation at the back of his neck, Jared can guess what it is. When he turns, Gabe is indeed staring fixedly at them from over in his little corner of the set, hemmed in by equipment, and craning his neck as though hoping if he can just angle it far enough in the right direction, he'll be able to hear what they're saying. 

Yeah, not creepy at all.

Jared claps his hands together briskly, and Jensen startles. "How about we head over to my trailer to finish our talk?" he asks brightly, and takes a casual step to the right to block Gabe from Jensen's gaze. 

Jensen looks undecided, and Jared holds his breath until the other man finally nods his head.

"This is where you live?" Jensen asks curiously when they're both standing in the middle of the trailer's main room. 

Jared laughs, and then tries to turn it into a cough when Jensen looks backs at him, a slight frown crinkling his forehead. Jensen has freckles, Jared notices absently; they run across the bridge of his nose, a slightly darker shade than the rest of his skin. It's unusual in Hollywood to see freckles and other natural imperfections left uncovered. Chad had lobbied hard in the early days for Jared to get his own moles removed, and only caved when the doctor had warned there was a chance that the scaring would be more noticeable than the moles had ever been. By the time Jared had enough money to pay for a plastic surgeon who was good enough that the chance of success far outweighed the risks, Jared's moles were almost as famous as he was. Getting rid of them now would be like Manilow getting a nose job. Okay, maybe not that big, but still noticeable.

Jared only snaps back to attention when he realizes Jensen is squirming a little in the prolonged silence. Feeling caught out, Jared heads quickly over to the small kitchen area to fuss unnecessarily for a few moments grabbing a couple of water bottles from the fridge.

"No," Jared finally says when they're both seated on the two small couches situated opposite each other across a small glass-and-chrome coffee table. "This is just a place to relax on set between takes while we're waiting to be called."

"Oh." Jensen gazes around the surprisingly large room, taking in the flat screen TV, game consoles and iPod dock and laptop sitting open and ready on a table across from them. Through the half-open door, Jared can see his full-size bed, rumpled from an earlier nap. "So do you have to share it or...?"

Jared shakes his head. "No, this is just mine," Jensen makes a small sound that Jared can't interpret, and he hears himself babbling suddenly. "I'm not the only one who has one, but trailers are generally just for the main stars," he says awkwardly, embarrassed for the first time in a long time about the luxuries he takes for granted.

"So Danni has her own trailer, too?"

"Um, yeah, it's probably a little... um, smaller, I mean, our agents negotiate this kind of thing, and Danni wouldn't... um, but yeah, sure."

"Okay." Jensen nods, and settles back into the sofa cushions, twisting the cap off his water bottle. Jared watches as he tilts his head back and takes a long swallow, his gaze captured by the muscles in Jensen's throat rippling as he drinks. Jared puts his own bottle to his mouth hurriedly when Jensen lowers his, but he misjudges his aim, smacking the edge of the plastic painfully into his lip. 

"Fuck," Jared mutters, lifting his hand toward his face and tapping cautiously at the sore spot to see if he's managed to actually break the skin. His fingers come away clean and he's exploring his lip with the edge of his tongue to see if it's swollen when the charged silence suddenly seeps through his distraction.

When he looks up, Jensen has scooted forward again, perched precariously on the edge of the sofa, a weirdly intense look in his eyes. When he catches Jared's gaze on him, he tilts his lips in a half grin and settles purposely back again. The odd moment leaves Jared fumbling for words, and he settles quickly on a question.

"What have you been doing before now?"

"You mean for a job?" Jensen asks. "What did Danni tell you?"

"Not much really. Actually, pretty much nothing at all," Jared admits, only just then realizing how little he knows, and pretty sure that Jensen is stalling.

"Well, I haven't really—up to now, I mean—had what I suppose you'd technically call a _job._ I've been busy though. I do other things, I mean, just not that... thing."

Jared blinks. He can't really judge. He's never had a job before either. Not the kind he knows other people have, but it's never occurred to him at any point that it's something to be embarrassed about. His life is pretty awesome, and getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to slog through a work day at the mercy of some asshole with more money or power than him doesn't sound awesome in the slightest. He's seen _The Office._ He knows what he's talking about. 

Jensen however, seems to have a different view. He's red-faced, staring intently at a fraying edge on his jeans that he's scratching at furiously with the edge of a nail. Jared has the urge to reach out and trap his fidgeting hand with his own, but he pushes it back and instead offers, "That's cool." Jensen's head comes winging up, a cautiously hopefully light in his eyes. "I mean, it's not a deal breaker or anything," Jared slots in hastily. "Basically, all you'll need to do is get me coffee and run errands. Not even many errands. Honestly, it's really not that hard." 

Jensen blinks. "Are you saying I've got the job?"

 _Is he?_ "If you want it," Jared hears himself say, and then holds his breath while he waits for Jensen's response.

"Huh." Jensen glances around him, and then back over at Jared. He grins. "Cool."

Jared grins back.

*~*

"Yo, Jaybird!" The shout is far louder than it needs to be considering the source seems to be about eight inches from Jared's ear. He winces, and then winces again as a large hand slaps his ass, painful even through two layers of material.

"Chad," he tries to sound welcoming, but it's hard even though he's not entirely unhappy about being interrupted. It's Jensen's first day, and Jared had been in the process of showing him around the set, which had started out fun, but quickly spiraled into annoying. Practically every person they'd run into had been super chatty, inviting Jensen out to bars and trying to winkle out details of his life from him; which shows had he worked on before, was he married, and where did he hang out outside of work? While Jared was relieved the rest of the crew were eager to make Jensen welcome, he didn't need an assistant who spent more time socializing than assisting. In any case, most of them were probably only pretending to be interested in an attempt to suck up to Jared. Jared would actually be doing Jensen a favor by clueing him in before he ended up getting used.

So relieved as Jared is to cut the tour short, he hadn't really wanted Jensen to meet Chad yet. Partly because he hasn't gotten around to telling Chad that he's already found his own assistant, but mostly because just knowing Chad kind of puts Jared in a bad light. The fact that he actually pays him a significant percentage of his earnings to be his manager? Yeah, Jared doesn't come out of that introduction well, no matter how he spins it. 

"Good to see you, man," Jared finally settles on, and takes a deep breath in preparation for the introduction. Chad, though, beats him to the punch. 

"You too. Hey, dude," Chad says to Jensen, "how about you go grab me a coffee, and maybe one of those pastry things; the little ones with nuts and the gloopy frosting shit? Jay, you know the ones I mean?" he turns to ask. Jared shakes his head, ready to try again, but Chad shrugs him off. "Never mind, look just bring back something with frosting, okay, and if you see something with frosting _and_ nuts, you've hit the jackpot." 

Jensen closes the little red book he'd been making notes in and frowns over at Chad. "Shit," Chad says in a not very quiet undertone, "is he just dumb, or doesn't he speak English?"

"Dammit, Chad," Jared hisses. He's keeping a close eye on Jensen, who thankfully doesn't seem particularly offended. "Stop being a dick. This is Jensen," but Jared breaks off when out of the corner of his eye he spies a tiny redhead teetering into view on heels that look like they would topple a drag queen. He holds his breath in desperate hope, and bites back a groan when she continues on her course toward them.

Chad follows his gaze to see what's captured his attention and beams delightedly. "Here she is! Jay, this is Melissa—your new assistant! Melissa, honey, this is Jared Padalecki. Don't be intimidated—he's really just a pussycat when you get to know him."

Melissa laughs loudly, and beside him Jared hears Jensen murmur, "Pussycat?"

Jared glares briefly into laughing green eyes, and then straightens his shoulders, turning to face Chad. "Chad, I'm sorry, but actually, I don't need an assistant."

"What?" Chad snorts. "Course you do, Jaybird; who's going to do all the boring crap you don't have time for if you don't have an assistant? No offense, honey," he says as a quick aside to Melissa, who giggles away his apology. "Shit, man, you'd starve to death without someone to book tables at restaurants for you—I'm amazed you've lasted almost a week without Genevieve. Oh, and thanks for cock-blocking me with her by the way. I want all the sordid details later," he mutters, except Chad's muttering basically just means that the people across the room might have a tiny bit of trouble making out every word.

Jared feels a bloom of heat begin to build at the base of his throat when he catches Jensen eyeing him thoughtfully. Melissa giggles again, hand pressed coyly to her mouth, and suddenly Jared is desperate to wrest back some control. 

"Chad, I'm serious, I don't need an assistant. Melissa, I'm sorry you've had your time wasted but the position is already filled."

"Are you screwing around with me? Who's your assistant—hold on a second there, Jay; don't tell me you hired that creepy little PA? Seriously, Jared, that guy is one step away from stealing your toenail clippings for his shrine, and you want to give him free rein to your house?" 

Jared can't really argue with that one, but he's not going to admit it and he's getting ready to set Chad straight when there's the sound of something heavy falling behind them, followed immediately by a muffled yelp of pain. The four of them turn as one to watch Gabe disappearing around a corner, leg shaking frantically with every other step in an attempt to kick free of the tangle of cabling that has somehow become wrapped around an ankle. 

Chad raises an eyebrow meaningfully. "Jared, you know I love you like a brother, and despite our current little blip, I'm eternally grateful for the fact that your box office numbers mean I can afford to dress in the designer clothes that makes me look so damn good, but don't think for a second that I'm gonna be running to your rescue when that little Gollum goes all _Misery_ on your ass."

"He's perfectly safe," Jared says, hoping he sounds more certain than he feels. "And, anyway, Gabe isn't my new assistant; Jensen is." Beside him, Jensen lifts a hand in awkward greeting, and Melissa waves enthusiastically back.

"Well, when the fuck did you hire him?" Chad demands. "I've been searching day and night to find you the perfect assistant and you couldn't take five fucking minutes to let me know you don't need one?"

"Chad, you just had _your_ assistant do all the work, so don't try to guilt me. And Jensen is actually Danneel's cousin," he adds quickly when he can see Chad winding up to bitch some more.

"Danneel?" Chad sucks his bottom lip between his teeth nervously, and then seems to come to a decision. He squares his shoulders and turns to face Jensen. "Guess this is really turning into a family affair. So, Jason—"

"Jensen," Jared and Jensen correct in unison.

"—Yeah, Jensen, like I said, have you got much experience?" 

Jensen shoots a vaguely hunted look at Jared. Jared tries to project reassurance and confidence, which Jensen must pick up on because he turns back to Chad with a shrug. "Some."

Melissa lets out a little purr of approval. "I bet you do."

"Hey, Melissa," Jared says, "just so you haven't had a completely wasted journey, can I maybe offer you lunch?"

"Wow, um, yes, that would be wonderful!" Melissa immediately turns away from Jensen, and Jared feels a little stab of satisfaction. He gestures to a passing PA who hurries to his side. Jared doesn't recognize the man, so he smiles brightly to make up for it. He suspects that less than half a day into his new job, Jensen knows the PA's name. Jared should probably make more of an effort to get to know the crew. Maybe he'll take photos of them all, add notes to his phone like Jensen does in his little book. Jared memorizes stuff for a living; it's not like it would be difficult for him. 

But for now, "Hey, man, do you think you can take Melissa here over to crafting and make sure she gets something to eat, please?"

"Oh, but I thought—"

"It was really great to meet you," Jared says, hand shoved out in front of him.

Melissa hesitates and then reaches out to shake it, a crestfallen expression on her face. "It was good to meet you, too. I'm sorry we won't be working together."

"Yeah, me too. Never say never though, right?" Jared gives her a smile that has decorated billboards and magazine covers across the world, and Melissa looks gratifyingly slack-jawed.

Jared glances over at Jensen to see if he's noticed the affect Jared's had, but Jensen's not even looking in his direction. Slightly disappointed, he turns back to Melissa to find her smile has faltered, and the look she's directing toward Jared now is less awe-struck and more piqued. Jared's gaze narrows when she reaches into her bag and pulls out a card that she presses into Jensen's palm. 

"It was good to meet you, Jensen," she says, eyes fixed warm and interested on Jensen's. "If you feel like getting together some time—?"

Her offer is interrupted by a bellowing call from across the set for the PA Jared had co-opted in his efforts to get rid of Melissa.

"I can take you if George is busy," Jensen offers, proving, of course, that he does already know everyone's name. "I was on my way there anyway to get coffee for everyone. And pastries," he adds when Chad opens his mouth. There isn't much Jared can do but stand back and watch as Melissa clutches Jensen's arm to be shepherded gently out of sight. 

By the time it's just the two of them again, Chad is the one looking pissed, glaring at Jared like he's just spit in his beer.

"Fuck, cock-blocked twice in the space of a week! What the hell, man—she was eating out of my hand right up until you handed her off to your pretty-boy assistant!"

"I didn't hand her off to anyone, Jensen was just doing his job," Jared says tightly, because Jensen _had_ been pretty damn eager. Jared has never considered himself a hardass particularly when it comes to his assistants, but, seriously, it's Jensen's first day; he shouldn't be disappearing on him like this to hit on women.

"They're probably fucking like bunnies even as we speak," Chad says morosely. "That should be me, Jared, I should be the bunny fucker. Do you know how long it's been since I got laid?" he demands.

"A day?" Jared hazards. Maybe they should head over to craft services themselves, grab Chad's pastry. It might be the only way to shut him up.

"Yeah, very funny. Try _ten_ days. That's only three days away from my record dry spell when I fell off that contortionist and broke a bone in my ass. Jesus Christ that was painful, but the drugs..." Chad's eyes fall shut in remembered pleasure. "Best I've ever had. Shit, I was totally whacked out of my gourd. You remember that, Jared?"

"I remember. Do you remember how much you had to pay the nursing agency so they'd drop that lawsuit?"

Chad scowls. "Too fucking much. Also, I thought we agreed we were never going to talk about that again."

Jared raises his hands in apology. Chad doesn't seem appeased. Maybe it's the huge shit-eating grin Jared's making no attempt to wipe from his face.

"Yeah, laugh it up, Padalecki, because you're heading in the same direction."

"What? No, I'm not. Why would you say that?"

"That Harris guy? I mean, c'mon, how is that not gonna end badly?"

"I—What?" Jared pushes down the unpleasant cold jolt that runs through him at Chad's words. "Of course it won't, because there's nothing _to_ end badly," he says firmly. "And it's Ackles; Danni's mother and Jensen's mother are sisters."

"Exactly my point! When do you ever know this kind of shit about anyone, let alone an _assistant_? Look, I get it," Chad adds when Jared fumbles for a response. "Things have been fucked up lately. Your last three movies flopped and right now you're about as welcome at the box office as a fart in a phone booth. But, Jaybird, trust me, this is just a temporary setback. Before you know it you'll be back on the big screen and all this will be just a bad memory."

"I know that, I just don't know what it has to do with knowing my assistant's last name."

"Because this isn't camp, Jared. You're not here to be the nice guy, you're not here to make friends; this is just a means to an end." Chad reaches up to drape an arm that doesn't quite reach over Jared's shoulders and turns him so they're facing the frantic bustle of the crew spread out in front of them. "You're like a bird with a broken wing right now; it's fixable, but you can't let anyone know you're damaged. You gotta make everyone think the only reason you're walking instead of flying is because you're enjoying the change of pace. Because, trust me, if any one of these assholes scents weakness, they will fuck you over in a heartbeat. A heartbeat, man."

Jared shakes his head. "Jensen wouldn't—"

"Jensen _would._ You want a buddy to cry into your beer with? Give Shia LaBeouf a call. You want someone to pick up your dry cleaning and fix your coffee? Then Jensen is your man. Just stick to the game plan, Jay, and don't start mixing business and pleasure." 

The words _Jensen_ and _pleasure_ in such close proximity send a weird curl of mingled fear and some other less easily identifiable emotion through Jared's gut. It's the second one that bothers him the most, so he's extra careful to ignore it.

"Firstly, Shia LaBeouf? Please. And secondly, actors make shitty friends, man," Jared shoots back, because it's true—he has plenty of acquaintances. The acting world is pretty closed off, especially at Jared's level, and it's relatively small enough that everyone pretty much has at least a passing knowledge of everyone else. Friendships, however—real ones and not just convenient ones to be played up in front of the camera—are few and far between. Jared doesn’t even have old and trusted childhood friends to fall back on because apart from one brief blip he doesn't really like to remember, he'd been modeling since preschool, right up to his first acting job.

"Look," he says, patiently as he can manage, "I hired my own assistant. I don't see what the problem is; it's not like he's some random dude off the street."

"The problem, Jared, is that you barely know the guy, and, like it or not, most civilians have an agenda beyond earning a pay check when they come into contact with a celebrity, especially someone as high profile as you."

"Jensen isn't like that," Jared says firmly. "And, anyway, he's Danni's cousin."

"Jaybird, we don't know the first fucking thing about _her._ And, for the record, they're _all_ like that."

Jared stares down at Chad through narrowed eyes. "Even you?"

Chad stretches his arms out wide, not a hint of shame in his expression. "Man, especially me. In fact, I'm a little hurt that you don't know that."

Jared sighs. "I'll be careful."

"Yeah, you do that. Meanwhile, I'll have your lawyer courier out all the standard confidentially contracts."

Jared nods. "Okay."

"Make sure he signs them, Jared."

"I will."

" _Jared._ "

"I said I will," Jared huffs. "It's not like I have anything interesting going on in my life he could take to the press anyway."

Chad's lips twist. "Lies always sell better than the truth."

Jared isn't about to argue with him on that one.

*~*

Jared sinks down with a sigh onto his chair and runs a weary hand through his hair. He's been on set since before dawn, and they've had maybe one solid hour of filming in the last ten, one problem after another causing the director to call cut. The most recent spectacular failure involved a disappearing and reappearing ostrich that Darrin and Samantha had been cursed with by her mother Endora, that they had to keep hidden from their non-magical guests.

Apparently, it cost less to have a real ostrich than to CGI one in later. Whatever money they saved, Jared's pretty sure it wasn't worth it.

Unfortunately, and unsurprisingly, a two-hundred-pound, eight-foot bird with a bad attitude and a brain the size of its own eye isn't ideally suited to a TV set. Who knew? Something else Jared, and apparently no one else in the crew had known: ostriches kicked when spooked. Not backward like a horse, but forward, like an overgrown toddler in the middle of a temper tantrum.

Right now, the ostrich's owner is yelling at the director, threatening to have his bird removed from the set if they can't guarantee a calm, nonthreatening work space for him. The unfortunate lighting guy who's the cause of the latest interruption is hunched over, groaning and dry heaving, an ice pack gingerly pressed to his groin.

Around him the set is in chaos. Jared sighs. It's what he hates most about acting; the frustration of working to someone else's schedule and fuck-ups.

He's just considering sneaking in a quick nap until everything blows over, when the scent of fresh coffee announces the arrival of Jensen. Jared feels some of the tensions of the day slip away, and the thought of sleep is abruptly the farthest thing from his mind. 

Jared likes having a guy for an assistant. He likes having _Jensen_ for an assistant. Chad had been right. It _is_ kind of like having a buddy on set, which is great until Jared remembers that he's paying Jensen, and then the pleasure dims a little. Not enough for Jared to be regretting his decision though. 

"Hey, boss," Jensen greets, holding out his mug filled with steaming coffee. Jared mumbles his thanks and takes a cautious sip and sighs. It's perfect, as usual.

"Jensen, I've told you, 'Jared' is fine," he reminds him. It's harder to convince himself Jensen would still be hanging around without a paycheck at the end of the week if Jensen doesn't even call him by his first name.

Jensen sketches a quick salute. "Sure thing, boss."

"Asshole," Jared mutters, hiding his grin behind his cup.

"Thank you, sir, I do my best."

Jared scowls and Jensen watches him, eyes gleaming with silent amusement, until the sound of stamping ostrich feet gains Jensen's attention. Jared lets out a breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding when Jensen glances over at the train wreck in front of them. Jensen's lips purse in a silent whistle.

"Huh. Who would have thought bringing a giant, territorial bird with poor peripheral vision, razor-sharp beak, and a tendency to spook at the slightest sound onto a noisy TV set would end badly?"

Jared laughs, delighted. "I know, right? It's like they've never even seen _Jurassic Park."_

Jensen turns back toward him, head tilted questioningly.

"The movie, Jurassic Park? Richard Attenborough? Sam Neill? Jeff Goldblum? Incredibly cool dinosaurs running amok in a prehistoric theme park?" It's almost impossible to believe, but there's no mistaking Jensen's blank stare. "You've never seen it?" he demands, already knowing the answer.

Jensen shrugs awkwardly. "Never even heard of it. I don't, um, really watch many movies."

There's something a little off in the way Jensen's refusing to meet his eyes, and Jared narrows his gaze. "Many?"

"Yeah, okay," Jensen admits sulkily. "Any."

"Wow, that's... I don't know, kinda unnatural." Jensen frowns, and Jared pulls his lips tight so the threatening smile doesn't break free. "On the plus side, I'd totally kick your ass at Jeopardy." Jensen's frown fades, a quickly masked confusion taking its place. "And, you've never heard of Jeopardy either, have you?"

Jensen raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "Um, no. I guess this is the kind of thing an assistant to a TV star should know?"

But Jared is barely aware of the edge of worry in Jensen's voice, because something else has just occurred to him. "Oh my god!" he breathes. "You don't even know who I am, do you?"

"What? Of course I do! I'm not _crazy_!" 

"No, I mean _who_ I am, the movies I've made, the stories in the press about me..." he trails off, lost in thought. It's been so long since he's met someone who has no preconceived ideas about him, he doesn't know how to react. He's lived his life in a bubble for more years than he can remember, and he's used to the fact by now. It barely even occurs to him anymore that pretty much every random stranger he meets in the street knows as much about him as generally only friends and family would know about anyone else.

Jensen though, doesn't know that Jared's last three movies bombed, that _Last Year in Katmandu_ was the only DVD ever to sell zero copies, and that he's had, and broken up with, five fiancées in six years and never once made it to the altar.

To Jensen, Jared is a blank canvas. It's surprising how appealing that realization is.

Jensen is still watching him uncertainly, and Jared grins. "You know what? It doesn't matter. In fact, maybe it's better."

Jensen raises an eyebrow, cautious relief flaring in his eyes. "Yeah? How so?"

"Because you have much to learn, young Padawan, and who better to guide you than one of film's—and soon to be TV's—biggest and brightest stars. I'm talking about me," he adds sourly when Jensen doesn't seem particularly enlightened.

"Oh." Jensen's gaze rakes him from head to toe. Jared shuffles, skin uncomfortably tight. "You are big," he finally allows, smile curling at the edge of his lips.

"You forgot brightest."

Jensen whips out a pair of aviator sunglasses, seemingly from thin air, and slides them onto his face. "Goes without saying, boss."

Jared's come-back would have been killer, he's sure, if it hadn't been interrupted by the mass set evacuation when the pissed-off ostrich took matters into its own claws and made a break for it.

*~*

A week later, and things are starting to settle down with the show. By some miracle, they haven't been closed down by the American Humane Society, and the first episode filmed in front of an actual live audience had been one of the most amazing—and terrifying—experiences of Jared's life. In fact, Jared doesn't know why he ever thought working in TV was a bad idea.

Of course, he's big enough to admit some of the satisfaction he's feeling might have more to do with his new assistant than any real love of back-to-back filming schedules, endless days, and barely enough time to draw breath before the director's calling 'cut' and they're on to the next scene.

He takes a sip of the liquid ambrosia Jensen slides into his hand, and lets out a soft moan of pleasure. Or maybe it's all just down to the coffee.

"Um, okay," Jensen says stiffly. Jared opens eyes he hadn't realized had fallen shut to find Jensen watching him, cheeks flushed a dull red. Jared looks down at the loose, porn star sprawl he's fallen into in his chair, and bolts upright, pulling his legs tight together as he goes. He feels matching color flood his own face, and wipes hastily at the side of his mouth to make sure he isn't actually drooling.

Jensen relaxes at the sight, and Jared feels his own unnaturally stiff pose ease back into something more comfortable.

"Everything is done," Jensen says as if there's been no interruption, "but the dog groomer had some kind of emergency and Sadie and Harley's appointment got pushed back to eight. Should I bring them here after or...?"

It takes all of Jared's—not inconsiderable, even if he does say so himself—skills as an actor to keep the satisfaction from showing on his face, because this is just the opportunity he's been waiting for. Jensen's role so far has been pretty much restricted to on-set assisting and running errands, and even though it's work, it's been fun. But Jared can't help but think how much cooler it would be to hang out with Jensen off the set, maybe watch a game, have a few beers.

After what happened with Genevieve, though, he's been feeling kind of weird about actually inviting Jensen out, even though he knows it's hardly going to go down the same way.

The thing is, acting's a lonely gig. Chad's always been against him hanging out with the crew socially because of how it might affect his image, and the majority of his actor friends either have schedules as tough as his or are shooting outside of LA. Jensen isn't crew, and his schedule is pretty much a mirror-image of Jared's, so having Jensen as a friend just makes sense.

As a result, he's spent the past week dropping careful hints, and keeping an eye out for opportunities to get together outside of work, without actually letting on to Jensen what he's doing. 

Jensen dropping his pets off at his house is the perfect excuse. When Jensen arrives, it would be rude not to casually invite him in for a beer, and if Jared also happens to have more food than he can eat by himself ready at about the same time, it just makes sense that Jensen hang around to share it with him. Jared carefully ignores the big flashing 'You're being weird!' sirens sounding in his head, and turns casually toward Jensen. 

"Probably be easier if you dropped them off at my house," he says. "We should be finished here by then, and there's no point getting Marie to wait here for you just to take them straight on home anyway." Marie, his dog walker, is an extremely capable, slightly stern forty-year-old who walks his dogs like they're on a military training exercise, and Jared has absolutely zero desire to ever share a beer with her. "You know my address, right?"

Jensen pats at his pockets and pulls out his red leather book that he leafs through quickly. The thing is so small, Jared has no idea how he keeps finding room to write all of his many notes in it, let alone read them back afterward.

"Yep," Jensen says, pausing on a page. "Um, did you say the guard has to let me through?"

"Don't worry, I've left your name at the front gate already." Jared carefully doesn't mention that he'd done it the same day he'd hired Jensen. Just in case Jensen ever wanted to drop by.

"Call me when you get there, okay? Sometimes the doorbell can be sticky."

Jensen nods and makes another note in his little book, and then tucks it carefully away in a back pocket.

Jared watches it vanish with dislike, because he kind of hates Jensen's book. It makes him feel like he's a chore, an entry on a to-do list that Jensen ticks off at the end of every working day before he heads off to his own life and his own friends whom he doesn't have to make notes about to remember. "You've got the cell I ordered for you, right?" he asks, mostly to distract himself from his grim thoughts.

Jensen grimaces, and reaches into the same back pocket to pull out the phone, careful enough that he looks like he's auditioning for a part in _The Hurt Locker_. When he's extracted it from his pocket, he holds it out away from his body to gingerly pry open the clam shell style phone. Jared's pretty sure Jensen's holding his breath as the screen springs to life. His suspicions are confirmed when Jensen lets out a relieved puff of air. "Yeah, still got it," he says. The BlackBerry is a bright, snazzy red in Jensen's hand, gleaming under the studio lights. Jared could have sworn he ordered black. When Jensen moves to ease it closed again, Jared reaches over to grab his wrist. 

"You know that thing's perfectly safe, right?" he asks. "There's no chance you're going to lose a hand switching it on."

"I know," Jensen says instantly. At that, the phone begins to hum, and it's only when Jared feels the slight vibration though his fingertips that he realizes he's still holding on to Jensen's wrist. He releases him immediately, gaze flashing up to Jensen's face to see if he's picked up on the unintentional groping.

Jensen, however, has all of his attention focused on the cell phone, eyes narrowed suspiciously as it begins to trill the announcement of an incoming message. "Dammit," he mutters, flipping the phone closed with a flick of his wrist, and ramming it back into his pocket with a violent motion.

"Wow, I guess that was a call you didn't want to take?" Jared asks, eyebrows raised. He's still waiting for Jensen to respond, when something else occurs to Jared. "Wait, who even has your number yet?"

"Oh, yeah. Just my mom. She worries, you know what it's like." Jared doesn't, not really. Not for a long time. He shakes the vague feeling of melancholy resolutely away; it's nothing new.

"Guess you shouldn't have given her the number right off the bat," he says, grinning at Jensen's hunted expression. It really is kind of cute that Jensen is obviously a mama's boy, however reluctant.

Jensen makes a small huffing sound of disparagement. "Like that'd do any good," he mutters, and waves away Jared's questioning glance.

*~*

By the time Jensen's call comes through announcing they're just pulling into Jared's drive, Jared is feeling weirdly hyper, like he's about to go on a first date. An incredibly important first date. He knows he's being stupid, but the knowledge isn't enough to stop him careening around his already spotless house, fluffing pillows, checking for dust his housekeeper might have missed, and arranging for pizza to be delivered. It's currently keeping warm in the oven, ready to be pulled out and left casually on the kitchen counter as though Jensen and the delivery guy missed each other by seconds. 

The sound of the doorbell ringing has Jared wiping his sweaty palms down the front of his jeans and straightening his shirt. He's wearing flip-flops, and when he glances down, he's suddenly struck by the fact that his left big toe is incredibly hairy. Has it always been like that? He's frozen with indecision over whether he should change into sneakers to hide Chewbacca's baby brother who's apparently attached himself to his toe, when the doorbell rings again. There's a brief pause, and then Jensen immediately starts hammering at the door. _Crap_. Jensen as always, had been paying attention when Jared warned him about the—fake—sticky bell, but now the racket he's making means that any second now the dogs will be—

On cue, Harley and Sadie begin howling to be let in, and Jared's forced to abandon his flip-flops versus sneakers dilemma to sprint out of the kitchen and down the hallway. He doesn't want Jensen ready to leave before Jared even has chance to invite him in. 

To add insult to injury, the flip-flops make running almost impossible, and he's limping, and very slightly out of breath by the time he reaches the foyer, as much from nerves as exertion. He makes an effort to even out his breathing before he drags the door open to reveal Jensen crouched on the ground, attempting to calm the dogs with soft murmurs. 

"Hey," Jared says, bending down to offer his own apologies to his babies. "Glad you found me okay." From the new position, Jared is at eye-level for once with Jensen, and he can't help but notice the length of those soot-black lashes framing Jensen's bright green eyes. "Do you get your eyelashes dyed?" he hears himself ask, with absolutely no authorization from his brain. "I just wondered because they're really dark and your hair is pretty light. Comparatively, I mean..."

Jared trails off when Jensen's eyes widen into bewilderment. "Dye them? Um, no, why would I—" Jensen pauses, then stares closely back at Jared who's fighting the annoying flush of embarrassment that's itching to crawl it's way up his neck. "Do you dye yours?"

"No." Jared stands stiffly. He pats Sadie's head one last time as she nuzzles briefly at his knee, and then troops off into the house with Harley at her heels. "They're already dark enough, but you know, it's pretty common. Curling them, too, I mean, permanently not just with... eyelash curlers."

Jensen nods seriously, also back on his feet. "Okay, well, thanks for the beauty tips. Next time I'm at the salon, I'll be sure to ask."

Jared snorts, and leans in to shoulder check Jensen. "You can mock, but manscaping—painful and therefore manly manscaping—is just one of the many sacrifices you have to make if you want to be a world famous actor."

"Is that true?"

Jared shrugs, a little thrown by Jensen's serious tone. "Um, yeah, pretty much? I mean, character actors and Mickey Rourke kind of get a free pass—"

"No, I mean are you really _world_ famous? If I walked in to a store in Hong Kong and told the guy behind the counter I worked for Jared Padalecki, would he know who you were?"

"Oh, well, I don't know for sure, and dude, I'm gonna have to veto any trips to China on your expense account to find out, but yeah, probably. Um, I think I play pretty well out there."

"Huh."

Jared scratches at his arm and tries to wait patiently, because Jensen seems to be mulling over something important, but he's not used to having to be patient, so he reaches out and pokes at Jensen's elbow with his fingertip. When Jensen's gaze lifts to lock with his, Jared raises his eyebrows questioningly.

"It's nothing," Jensen says slowly. "I was just thinking that that must actually kind of suck."

Jared frowns, vaguely offended, and Jensen quickly shakes his head. "I mean you can't just go to the park or go out and grab a beer. I'm pretty sure I would hate that."

Considering those were exactly the kind of things Jared was thinking about asking Jensen to do, it's not the most promising start to the night. Convincing Jensen that yes, he can actually leave his house without getting mobbed, is suddenly hugely important. "No, dude, it's not that bad. No one expects to see famous people wandering around doing the same normal things they do, so they mostly assume I'm just some guy who kind of looks like a really tall Jared Padalecki. Also, sometimes I wear a disguise."

"Like Spider-Man?"

"Yes, but with significantly less spandex. Hey, wait, I thought you said you didn't watch movies?"

Jensen blinks. "They made a movie about Spider-Man?"

"Yes. Yes they did." Jared fiddles awkwardly with a loose thread on his cuff. "Um, I had a pizza delivered just before you got here, should still be hot," he says, cringing a little inside. "You up for a slice?" Jensen looks uncertain, and Jared reminds himself firmly that he's Jared _goddamn_ Padalecki. People would _pay_ to spend an evening with him. Which doesn't mean he's too proud to stoop to bribery, even if it does rob him of his appetite a little. "We could watch Spider-Man while we eat?" 

Jensen's eyes light up. _Bingo._

::

Jared leaves Jensen in the media room while he goes to grab his most expensive beers out of the fridge and some napkins to go with the pizza. When he opens the stove door though, no warm blast of heat hits him, and he takes off the oven mitt to tap gingerly at the metal grill the box is sitting on. It's stone cold, although he can definitely hear a fan whirring somewhere. Jared jabs ineffectively for a few moments at the huge array of buttons apparently needed to control the two basic functions of on or off, and gives up when it starts beeping at him angrily. With a frustrated curse, he yanks the pizza box out of the oven and heads for the microwave instead.

The microwave seems like it will be easier to operate, but, he quickly discovers, is nowhere near big enough to fit the huge-ass pizza box inside. After a moment of frantic indecision—he must have been gone for close to ten minutes already—he begins pulling the slices of pizza out of the box and dumping them haphazardly onto the microwave's glass turntable. He hits the button next to the helpful picture of a slice of pizza, and paces the kitchen while he waits for the timer to run down.

It's about halfway through when it occurs to him that the setting was probably for _frozen_ pizza, and he sprints back to the microwave to pull open the door.

The inside of the oven looks like someone has used it to explode a severed head.

Jared lets out a pitiful moan, and then slaps his hand over his mouth in case Jensen hears him and comes to investigate. The last thing he needs is a witness to his incompetence.

Short of ordering another pizza, Jared is all out of alternatives, so he starts wildly tugging the melted slices out of the microwave. Not all of them will come free, so he focuses his attention on the ones that will, and leaves the rest behind to rot. No man left behind his ass.

When he's finished, he nibbles on his greasy fingers while he examines his prize, and quickly comes to the sad conclusion that nothing he's managed to excavate really resembles pizza any more. Thinking on his feet, he grabs a spatula that's hanging on the gleaming utensil rack in front of him, and uses it to press the pieces semi-flat and then pulls down a pair of scissors to cut the newly formed lumps of cheese and dough back into rough, triangle-like shapes.

The finished result doesn't look particularly appetizing, or, if he's being totally honest, fit for human consumption. Jared places the pizza blobs gently into the cardboard box and sends out a quick prayer as he closes the lid.

When he gets back to the TV room, it's to find Jensen thankfully still there and seemingly happily examining the huge, usually hidden, wall of shelves lined with DVDs.

"Hope you don't mind," Jensen turns to say. "I found the secret catch. At first I thought you might be a modern day Bluebeard, and I'd find all your old assistants back here hanging from hooks."

"No, that's what I use the basement for; it's a bitch apparently to get blood out of hardwood floors. Or at least that's what my last seven housekeepers told me."

"Gotcha," Jensen says, tipping his forefinger in an imaginary salute. "The basement is out of bounds, and, if anyone asks, your housekeepers are at the store."

Jared shakes his head, a look of deep pride on his face. "Best. Assistant. Ever."

Jensen gives a small bow, and then straightens to run a hand lightly across the brightly colored shelves behind him. "So, have you really seen all these movies? I've been checking some of the running times, and it would take about a week a shelf to watch them, and that's only if you don't stop to sleep and eat, which I think we both know is never gonna happen."

Jared shrugs in easy agreement. Sleeping and eating are two of his favorite things, right up there with earning enormous amounts of money and being adored by millions, but he knows his values are kind of skewed so it's probably better for now if Jensen only knows about the gluttony and sloth.

"Not all, but most," Jared says as he sets the pizza box down on the table and carefully places the beer on top of it. The delicious aroma of mutated pizza wafts out, and despite knowing exactly what's inside the box, Jared feels his appetite returning. As long as his nostrils are still functioning, the likelihood of him ever wasting away is small, regardless of mood or the state of the food placed in front of him. "It's kind of an occupational requirement—sizing up the competition—but mostly it's just because I love movies. Even though I know exactly how fake they are, it's nice sometimes to be able to lose yourself in someone else's world for a few hours."

The food camouflaged as best as he can, Jared joins Jensen in front of the DVDs. He quickly scans the titles, and then reaches over to pull _Spider-Man_ from the shelf. Up close, Jensen somehow smells even better than the pizza. Jared didn't know such a thing was possible.

Jensen nudges him with his elbow, and tugs the DVD case out of his loose grasp to read the back. "Looks okay," he finally decides, "although that is not how I pictured Peter Parker." He hands the box over to Jared and then turns back to the rows of DVDs. "So which ones are yours?"

Jared points to a fairly substantial section almost dead center of the shelving system. He's never really seen the point in false modesty.

"Wow." Jensen whistles. "That's a lot of movies."

"Gotta give the public what it wants." Jensen raises an eyebrow and Jared grins. "Plus, I guess there's also the fact that I'm not actually starring in them all, and I've have been acting since I was a kid. Lot of years." He shrugs. "Lot of movies."

"Seriously, since you were a kid? How do even get into something like that?"

"Well, at first it was modeling, but I think the plan was always to move into acting."

"You think?" Jensen heads over to drop down onto the huge couch in front of the enormous flat screen TV and reaches for the pizza box. Jared holds his breath, and then lets it out when at the last second Jensen picks up the beer instead, handing one over to Jared. "Don't you know?"

"My mom always dreamed of becoming an actress, but then she met my dad and I guess, I don't know, it just didn't happen for her. Then, when I was three she took me to an audition for a kids fashion show at a mall near our home, and everything kind of took off from there."

Jensen sits up from the sprawl he's sunk into, and stares over at Jared in surprise. "Three?" He shakes his head. "Damn, that's, well, that's young."

"She wasn't—she didn't force me into it or anything like that. I mean she was ambitious, but we're not talking Rose Hovick here." When Jensen's forehead wrinkles in confusion, he adds, "' _Sing out, Louise?_ '" From _Gypsy?_ Never mind," Jared says quickly. He doesn't like the hint of pity he can see growing in Jensen's expression. "The point is, if I wasn't having fun, she wouldn't have let me do it." Which was completely true. Right up until it wasn't.

"Okay," Jensen says soothingly, and Jared sighs. The story is common knowledge, and it's been a long time since anyone has asked him about it. He'd be glad if no one ever asked him again.

"So what about you? What's the deal with you and your aversion to the twentieth century?" Jared asks, half in an effort to change the subject, but mostly because he's genuinely curious.

"Oh." Jensen awkwardly sets down the bottle he'd been about to drink from. "I—my family, I kind of grew up in a pretty strict community, and stuff like that isn't really... allowed."

"At all? Wow, seriously? So what are you, like Amish or something? Are you doing that thing that Amish kids do? Rum something?"

"Um," Jensen hesitates. "No, I don't think so..." Jared catches sight of something out of the corner of his eye, but when he looks, there's nothing there. When he turns back, Jensen is closer than he was before. Jared has no idea how he missed him moving. "No, not Amish, and it's rumpsringa you're thinking of, which I'm a little old for," Jensen says. "But where I grew up, the community is kind of... insular. They—we don't really interact much with outsiders, and they don't see the point in most mort—um, modern technology."

"Danni seems to have a handle on it," Jared reminds, thinking of his costar and the cell phone that seems almost permanently welded to either her hand or her ear.

"Danni's mom is my mom's youngest sister. My father's family have pretty much been the leaders of our... community for as long as most people can remember, and my dad likes to show he hasn't forgotten the old ways, I guess, although most of the time I think he's the only one who cares. I doubt it would matter though to Danni even if it was the other way round—she's always done her own thing."

"So, you're what, next in line or something?"

"No, I have an older brother, but Josh isn't exactly the reliable type. My dad's been pinning all his hopes on me stepping into his shoes when the time comes, but lately I've been feeling, I don't know, trapped." Jensen shrugs. "Danni's always telling me I should see for myself what's out there, get some experience in your world, and suddenly it seemed like a good idea."

In an attempt to improve the appearance of the pizza, Jared had switched off all the lights except for the two lamps bracketing the couch when he first came into the room. When Jensen falls silent to stare pensively down at his beer, Jared is abruptly aware of how the shadows darken the lines of Jensen's face, until he looks like something filmed in black and white. Jared is so absorbed by the image that it takes him a second to catch up with the conversation, and when he does, his jaw drops.

"Wait, did you say—get some _experience_? Shit, Jensen how strict is strict?"

Jensen tilts his head, puzzled, and Jared has the sudden urge to reach over and wrap him up and keep him safe. "I—Jensen, you need to be careful, the kind of people you're going to meet working for me..." He takes in Jensen's stupidly pretty eyes, lips swollen from sucking on the beer bottle still in his hand, and feels a knot the size of a fist forming in his stomach. "Fuck, Jensen, they'll eat you alive!"

Jensen frowns, and then comprehension sweeps over his face, and he lets out a huffing laugh. He's still smiling when he leans back against the couch, shadows receding until he's lit up again, freckles running wild across the bridge of his nose, and eyes gleaming with mirth. "Oh, shit, no, I didn't mean like no sex, I meant meeting people who aren't like... us, and doing things without, um, help."

"Oh." Jared nods once and then again, feeling foolish. "God, sorry, I'm such an idiot. I was just worried for a second there, but of course you didn't mean—" Jared bites hard on his lip to stem the tide of words. "Ignore me, man, I've spent too many years trying to make crazy situations seem plausible; my imagination runs away with me sometimes."

Jensen's smile softens. "Don't apologize for looking out for me." He brings the bottle of beer to his mouth, and watches Jared from underneath lowered lashes. "It's sweet. Reminds me of being home with my mom. If she was an excessively hairy giant, that is."

Jared lets out a growl of protest and reaches over to land a punch on Jensen's upper arm. "That familiar too, Jen? Because I'm assuming anyone forced to spend a significant amount of time in the company of you and your smart mouth would have inevitably resorted to violence."

Jensen scowls and rubs at his arm. "Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent."

"Is that loser talk for _ouch_?" 

"It's Isaac Asimov."

"Yeah, I know. I read. And you're the _ass-_ imov."

"You know, I think I've finally figured out why you were so hard up for an assistant that you had to hire me."

Jared shakes his head sadly. "I'm not sure who you think you're insulting with that, but neither of us exactly comes out of it well."

"Eh, I'll take what I can get. So, pizza?"

"Oh, um, sure!" Jared feels his toes—hairy and otherwise—curl in his flip-flops. "But, I forgot to bring in any plates. I'll just go grab some—"

"It's fine, we don't need—"

"No, it'll only take a second. I just... really hate crumbs," he adds when Jensen frowns at him. Jensen shrugs, and Jared leaps to his feet, but it's too late; Jensen has opened the box, and Jared is still in the room.

"What the—?" Jensen says.

Although he hasn't admitted it to himself, Jared has been nursing the tiny, secret hope that some miracle of transformation might have occurred between closing the box in the kitchen and re-opening ten minutes later in the media room.

Unfortunately, no law of nature has been transgressed by an invisible deity on his behalf, and Jared is left with Jensen's bewildered expression, and no real explanation to offer.

On reflection, lying seems to be the way to go.

"Fuck, what the hell happened here, Jen? Did you drop it?"

"No! Swear to God—it was like this when I opened it!" Jensen reaches out to lift one of the 'slices' out of the box. Several of its neighbors come away with it, hanging from the end of the first slice like a gross string of snot from a toddler's nose.

Jared reaches forward to snap off a slice, and brings it toward his face for a cautious sniff. "It still smells okay, just looks kind of messed up. The delivery guy did seem pretty shady; maybe he dropped it and didn't want to risk his tip?"

Jensen nods and carries out the same sniff test, which he follows up with a tiny nibble. Jared watches warily. "It tastes okay, too," Jensen finally declares. "Sort of crunchy."

Jared hides his relief behind a huge bite of his own slice ( _splodge?_ ) of pizza and sinks back down next to Jensen.

"What about the plates, man?"

"What? Oh. 'S'okay," Jared mumbles through a full mouth. "Housekeeper will get it in the morning." He reaches out to grab the remote from the table to start up the movie, and then goes back for his beer. The pizza needs all the help it can get.

Popcorn is definitely off the menu.

*~*

By the time the movie is over, Jared is almost asleep, head lolling heavy on his neck and dangerously close to dropping down to snuggle against Jensen's shoulder. Jensen, in contrast, is sitting bolt upright, lips half parted and eyes glued to the screen. When the credits finally role, he flops back against the cushions and lets out a deep sigh of satisfaction.

"That? Was awesome!" He twists on the couch to face Jared. "Why didn't anyone tell me there was a Spider-Man movie before now?"

"To be fair, I think Columbia probably spent quite a bit of money making sure that particular piece of information was out there. I have literally no idea how it managed to pass you by."

Jensen ducks his head, and Jared grins. "So, since you're obviously a massive comic book geek, how did it compare?"

"Great! Really great," Jensen hesitates, a thoughtful look in his eye. "Mostly."

"I know that look," Jared says, crossing his arms in fake long-suffering. "You have notes."

"Maybe a couple," Jensen says, and then sits forward, green eyes sparkling. "Originally the web-shooters were Peter Parker's invention, not part of the powers he got from the spider bite. That just gave him increased strength and reflexes and the ability to climb walls. Oh, and his spider-sense, of course."

"Of course." Jared nods. He suspects Jensen isn't really paying attention to him anyway.

"Also, Norman Osborne had nothing to do with the radioactive spider that bit Peter. In fact, he didn't even appear in the original comics until years later, although in the Ultimate revamp Peter _does_ get bitten by a genetically enhanced spider from the chemical engineering plant Norman Osborne owns so..." Jensen trails off when he catches sight of Jared's grinning face. "Um, yeah," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck and dropping his eyes to his lap. "It was... good."

Jared's grin grows wider, and he feels a soft curl of tenderness sweep over him. "Jen, are you sure the real reason you came to LA wasn't just to give you a wider dating pool and increase your chances of getting laid? Because I can see how this... hobby might be something of an impediment."

"Yeah, I do okay, thanks," Jensen says. He's wearing a cocky smirk that Jared's mostly sure is only half-serious. Jared's suddenly reminded how at ease Jensen had been with the hot prospective assistant Chad had brought in, and his good humor takes a nosedive. He tells himself it's because he's tired and maybe a little bit drunk.

"Right, how could I forget about Melissa? I think you might even have come close to beating out some of my best scoring-a-phone-number times," he adds, because credit where credit's due. "Have you called her yet?"

"Nah," Jensen says. He stands up and starts collecting together the empty bottles and the worst remains of the pizza that neither of them had been prepared to risk a tooth over. "Melissa isn't really my type."

"No? Okay," Jared says, refusing to acknowledge the weird little burst of relief. "Well, you're working on a TV set now, man, so your dating prospects just increased by like a bajilllion percent. Plus, you have me—and I'm a killer wingman." Even as he makes the offer, Jared isn't sure taking Jensen out on a bar crawl is the best way to cement their fledgling friendship. If it's anything like a night out with Chad, Jensen will spend more of it in dark corners with various women than he will shooting the breeze with Jared.

Still, it's a start, and also a chance for Jensen to see exactly how big a deal Jared is to people who actually own a TV.

Jensen pauses in his attempts to close the lid of the pizza box, and he glances over at Jared. "Ah, no, when I said Melissa wasn't my type, I was talking gender rather than hair color?"

"Oh. Oh!" Jared says, hand spasming on the beer bottle he's holding. "Okay. I, um, I didn't realize, but—yeah. Of course. Whatever floats your boat, right?"

"Well, basically that's down to buoyancy and the displacement of water, but sex with other guys generally does it for me too."

Jared takes a gulp of his beer. It's warm, flat and pretty unpleasant going down. He takes another long swallow and nods. "Um, I'm not sure what my numbers are like with gay men, so I may not be at my full wingman power—"

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say they're probably up there with whatever your female demographic is," Jensen says.

"You've already got the job." Jared can feel himself blush at the warm appreciation in Jensen's eyes, and can only hope the mixture of half-light and fake tan is enough to hide it. "No need to suck up, Ackles." Jensen reaches over to cuff him lightly on the back of his head. Jared ducks and stands up to busy himself helping Jensen tidy up. There isn't much to do, so mostly he just rearranges the empty beer bottles into neat groups. 

"So," Jared asks into the growing silence. "How does this work with your home set-up and the whole taking over your community like your dad wants? It sounds kind of, I don't know... conservative? Is that why you wanted to get out?"

"What, because of the gay thing?" Jensen's already shaking his head before Jared has even had a chance to form a response. He looks loose and relaxed, leaning with his hip against the edge of a side table and his legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded over his chest. "No, no, nothing like that. It's no big deal for us—two guys together, or girls for that matter, is pretty normal."

"It is?" Jared stops fiddling with the bottles and turns to face Jensen. "Really? Where are you from again?" he asks, because he may be from Texas so his experiences are a little skewed, but there isn't any place or particular religion he knows to that doesn't contain at least some idiots ready to stir up trouble when it came to two guys being together. And in Jared's world, despite show-business generally having about as much restraint as ancient Rome, there were even fewer people prepared to be open about their sexuality. Most big name actors Jared knew would rather live a lie than risk their careers if the truth got out.

Jared might not like it, but he also knows it won't be changing any time soon.

His attention is pulled back to Jensen, who suddenly doesn't seem as relaxed anymore. "Um, you wouldn't know it," he says, spine ramrod stiff. "Our community is pretty small really, and kind of far-flung. My family was originally from Europe and we just sort of... spread."

"Huh. Sounds nice," Jared says thoughtfully. "I used to catch a lot of crap when I was a kid—you know modeling and then acting weren't exactly 'manly' pursuits as far as the other kids at school were concerned. It probably made it worse that I spent so much time on set with tutors; every time I came home it was like being the new kid all over again."

"Man, that really blows," Jensen says, something warmer than pity in his eyes. "Especially if there was no truth it it?"

Jared feels a hot flush of heat sweep over him and then disappear leaving a cold, prickling sensation in its wake. "Oh, no, I'm not—I mean, I don't. It's girls for me," he finally settles on. "It's always just been girls."

Jensen nods. He doesn't look disappointed, Jared notes. He doesn't really look anything. "Kids can be cruel, but what they do best is stupid."

"It was okay," Jared says, shaking away the odd feeling of anticlimax. "As I got older I was working pretty much full time, so it wasn't an issue. Well, except for not having anyone to hang out with at recess, although Morgan Freeman is surprisingly good at street hockey." He grins, but Jensen doesn't look like he wants to join in. Hopefully it's because he doesn't know who Morgan Freeman is, and not because he's feeling sorry for Jared again. "Seriously, I was fine," Jared insists.

"I'm glad." Jensen shifts, and then makes his way across the room toward Jared. Jared freezes, senses on high alert for he's not sure what, but Jensen stops a few feet away, head tilted curiously as he takes in Jared's tense form. "I should go," he says. "Got an early start in the morning and my boss is kind of a hard-ass."

Jared relaxes, and reaches for his phone to text his driver. "That sucks. You should tell him to go screw himself."

"And get fired from my first ever job? No way. I just wait till he's not looking and spit in his coffee."

"Oh my god, please tell me you don't spit in my coffee!"

"I don't spit in your coffee."

"No, no, no. Say it so I'll believe it!"

"Would that I could, man." Jensen grins. "That's why you're the big movie star and I'm the lowly assistant; I don't know how to sell a line." Jared makes a threatening noise, and Jensen shoulder-checks him as he heads out of the room. "Thanks, Jared. This was fun."

"It was," Jared agrees quickly. Out in the hallway, both dogs join them, circling Jensen's legs excitedly. "We should do it again."

"Yeah." Jensen bends to pet the dogs. "Cool."

Jared really wishes he could see Jensen's expression, but on the plus side he definitely said he had fun, and possibly that he thinks that Jared is cool. All Jared needs to do now is figure out the perfect follow-up get together. And not come off as too needy when he does it.

*~*

The solution to his problem comes two days later with the discovery of a note from his housekeeper, reminding him that she has a family wedding to attend, and asking if the replacement housekeeper Ms. Genevieve had arranged would be arriving before she'd left for the airport?

The fact that Jared found the note in the debris of an upturned ficus tree in a seldom-used room where Harley had plainly made another one of his half-assed attempts to bury his favorite toy—a plush honking pheasant that he seemed to love and hate in equal measure—made Jared realize that: a) he can’t actually remember the last time he saw his housekeeper, which would also explain the lack of coffee in the mornings lately and his microwave still looking like someone had exploded a pizza inside it, and b) it was pretty likely that in the midst of all the quitting and throwing around of insults, Ms. Genevieve hadn’t had time to arrange any actual cover for his housekeeper’s absence.

When he reports these fact to Jensen later that morning, Jensen just nods. "Okay, so I assume there's someone I should call?"

"That would be great," Jared says, studiously tapping out a message into his phone that he has no intention of sending . "Oh, or maybe... no, no. Never mind."

 

"What? Is there something else I should do? It's not a problem," Jensen says, little red book already in his hand.

 

"Well, I was just thinking that a lot of assistants actually live-in so that they can co-ordinate things like this. It would only be temporary, of course..." Jared trails off when Jensen frowns down at his book, pen tapping out an irregular beat on the hard cover.

 

"Forget it," Jared says hurriedly, "It was just a thought, man. I'm not even sure now who mentioned it to me, so you probably shouldn't... You know what, whoever they can send will be fine–"

 

"I have a cat," Jensen says over Jared's babbling.

 

Jared pauses and then nods, stomach still tight with embarrassment. "Um, okay?"

 

"No, I mean, would it be okay if he comes too? He gets kind of cranky if I go places without him, and the last time it was like this big thing when I got home; mice in my shoes, mice in my shower, mice in my _bed_. He always denies it's him, but c'mon–"

 

"What?" Jared lets out a huge, relieved laugh, and Jensen tilts his head quizzically. "Okay, well, yeah, that's fine. You should definitely bring your cat; I'm sure Sadie and Harley will love having him around. Also, may I suggest he never be allowed to watch _The Godfather?_ "

Jensen shakes his head blankly, and Jared grins, happiness bubbling up inside him. "Man, you have _got_ to get a TV. Seriously, sometimes it's like we're speaking another language."

*~*

The backpack that Jensen has hooked over his shoulder when he arrives later that night is disappointingly small. Jared reminds himself sternly that he already has a housekeeper who will presumably be returning at some point. He's already not sure how he's going to explain Jensen to her, so maybe it's just as well he hasn't arrived looking as though he's in it for the long-haul.

Once he's inside the door, Jensen glances around as though he's never seen Jared's house before. Which, Jared then realizes, except for media room, he hasn't.

"Hey, man, thanks again for this," Jared says, ushering Jensen out of the entrance hall and through to the kitchen. Half way there, he suddenly remembers the disaster area that is the microwave, and grabs hold of his elbow to change direction. "Um, let me show you to your room first and then we can do the tour," he says instead.

"Okay. Hey, where are the dogs?" Jensen asks as they're making their way up the stairs to one of the larger guest suites.

"Oh, I locked them in their room for now. Figured we'd better give your cat chance to settle in before we let them meet. It'll be fine," he hurries to add. "The kids are real friendly with other animals, but I thought if your cat—"

"Isis. My cat," Jensen explains when Jared frowns.

"Right, I figured Isis might be a bit wary. They are kind of intimidating at first glance. Um," Jared glances again at the small bag, "where is Isis?"

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Outside checking the perimeter."

"Okay, that's..." Jared blinks. "Aren't you afraid he might run away?"

Jensen lets out a little disparaging snort. "I should be so lucky."

Jared's prevented from asking anything more when they arrive at the door to the suite. He pushes it open and waves Jensen in before him. "I think you should be comfortable," he says, glancing around with a critical eye. The room is large and luxurious, plush carpets and muted colors on the walls contrasting with bright jewel colors on the bed covers and cushions. Ridiculously expensive original art shares wall space with more kitch, modern pieces. To the left is small living area with a cut down home theater system that's slightly set apart from a pair of deep cushioned armchairs beside a small bookcase filled with a mix of genres. A door to the right leads to the bathroom, and the far wall has a balcony that overlooks the pool.

Finding nothing amiss, he glances over at Jensen to gauge his reaction. Jensen drops his backpack onto the floor and heads over to open the balcony doors. "Wow, if this is the kind of living accommodation your help gets, I'm guessing your room is lined in gold?"

Jared squirms. His housekeeper doesn't actually live-in, but it suddenly doesn't seem wise to share that little fact, so he says instead, "It was, but a mattress stuffed with diamonds and precious metals is actually more uncomfortable than you'd imagine. In the end the lack of sleep just wasn't worth it, so I had them ripped out and replaced with shredded hundred dollar bills."

"Nice." Jensen reaches over to pat at his own bed. "Guess I'll be sleeping like a king tonight."

"Well, maybe a duke," Jared allows. "I only use twenty dollar bills in the guest rooms."

Jensen _tsks._ "Cheapskate."

"Hey, I'm a TV star now. Gotta economize." A noise from the balcony has him jerking toward it, heart rate jumping into a shuddering gallop in his chest. Instead of the masked intruder he's half-way expecting—a lifetime spent inhabiting fake worlds bleeds over on occasion—he sees a small cat, blue fur tipped in silver like a halo, drifting nonchalantly through the gap in the door. He lets out a huffing breath of relief and turns toward Jensen. It's only when he finds the spot beside him empty, that he realizes that he must have stepped up in front of him when he first heard the noise.

Jared bites down on his lip, and turns sheepishly around to find Jensen standing behind him, a wide grin of amusement on his face. "My hero?"

"Damn right," Jared agrees, fighting embarrassment. "If that cat had been packing, you'd be kissing my ass right now. Speaking of which—Isis?"

"Yeah," Jensen agrees, smile dropping from his face to be replaced by a scowl. Jared is about to ask what's going on, but he's distracted by the cat that's made a beeline for him, and is now winding his way between his ankles, pausing occasionally to rub his face against the raised heel of his shoe. "Huh, friendly." Jared drops down onto his haunches and holds his fingers out. Isis, however, needs barely any coaxing and immediately butts the soft fur of his forehead against his hands. Jared chuckles and scratches his fingers gently down under the cat's pointed little chin. Isis's huge green orbs of eyes drop closed in ecstasy, heart-shaped face tilting upward as a loud buzz-saw of a purr escapes him. "Really friendly," Jared revises, and looks up when Jensen makes a snorting sound.

"What?" Jared asks, rising to his feet. "Is this unusual?"

"No." Jensen shakes his head, and then changes it midway into a nod. "Well, maybe a little. Right now though, he's just trying to prove a point," he says, eyes narrowed on the cat who seems to be giving Jensen an unnecessarily wide berth as he abandons Jared's attentions to make his way across the room and leap lightly up onto the bed like he's on springs.

"He is?" Jared asks, but in truth he's not overly surprised; Sadie and Harley often seem almost human in their moods, especially when he's had to kennel them when he's going out of town for any length of time.

"Yeah," Jensen growls. Isis hops off the bed and strolls into the bathroom. He doesn't immediately come back out. Jared tries not to worry that it means he's going to need new towels. "He found out recently that Isis is a girls name, so now he's pissed at me. I tried to tell him," he adds, voice raised pointedly loud, "that Isis was worshiped by millions as the protector of the dead and goddess of nature and magic," his voice drops back to normal levels, "but he's just focusing on the female part."

 _Huh._ Okay, that's a little... odder. Until Jared remembers the current fashion for carrying around tiny pets in designer luggage, the women generally treating their animals better than they do humans, and Jensen's anthromorphizing of his pet isn't quite as weird. Plus he pretty much regards his dogs as his kids, so he's not really in a position to judge either way.

"Um, sorry man?" Jared offers a little uncertainly. "I'm sure he'll get over it soon."

"Yeah." Jensen nods, and then leans in a little closer. "As long as he doesn't find out I actually named him after Catwoman's favorite cat, who is also female," he whispers, "because then the shit will really hit the fan."

Jared can't quite hold back his snort of laughter, and Jensen glances up at him uncertainly. In that second, his eyes are huge, as green and glowing as his cats, mouth slightly open, lips dry and a little cracked, and Jared is suddenly hit with the desire to duck down and capture them with his own. The urge is unexpected, but there's no immediate rejection, and he's actually bending down toward Jensen when he feels a tug at the hem of jeans. He gaze drops and catches on a pair of matching green eyes. Isis lets out a soft, questioning chirp, and the spell is broken.

Needing a moment to pull himself together, Jared bends down and scoops Isis up. Used as he is to Sadie and Harley's bulk, the cat is impossibly fragile in his hands, almost weightless. Isis settles fearlessly easily against him, his unblinking gaze mysterious and knowing and fixed intently on Jared.

"Traitor," Jensen mutters beside him. Snuggled contentedly in Jared's arms, Isis purrs.

*~*

Jared's tour of the house finishes in the kitchen. He'd given Jensen a chance to settle into his room while he dashed back down to attempt to hide the evidence of his battle with the pizza. The microwave, however, is a lost cause in the short amount of time he has, so he throws the cheese encrusted spatula and scissors inside, and slams the door shut; he'll tell Jensen it's broken.

It's while Jensen is studying the contents of the fridge that a thought occurs to Jared that sends ice crawling through his veins. "Shit, Jensen, I never thought—I'm sorry, I didn't even ask if this was going to be a problem for you, y'know with a... boyfriend?"

Jensen closes the fridge and moves across the room to duck his head into the door that leads to the laundry room. "Oh, no, no problem. I'm not seeing anyone at the moment."

"Okay. Okay, that's good," Jared says. Perhaps a little too happily, because Jensen turns back toward him, eyebrows raised curiously. Jared winces, and rushes into speech. "Not good that you're alone, obviously, just good that there's no heartbroken boy waiting at home."

"Boy? Dude, I'm not _twelve_ ," Jensen mutters. "Also, I definitely won't be missing the kind of men I usually date."

"Jerks?"

"Jerks," Jensen confirms. "It's all about total instant gratification with war— ah, the, um, the guys in my... community. It's another reason why I decided to come here; I don't want that anymore. I'm ready for a change."

"Wait, you're dating women now?" Jared squawks, the recent almost kiss uppermost in his mind. He wonders if Jensen would have kissed him back. He wonders if Jensen realized what he'd been about to do.

"No, not women," Jensen says, staring at Jared as though he's a moron. "Because that's pretty much the fundamental principle of gayness; no girls allowed. Unless you're a girl, in which case... you know what? I think you've probably got the concept from here, but feel free to shout out if anything isn't clear."

"Man, you are such a dick—"

"You know," Jensen interrupts, his tone thoughtful. "I'm feeling very downtrodden right now. In fact, I've been doing some reading, and I think this may actually be a hostile work environment."

"I'm so sorry," Jared says, forehead wrinkling with concern. "That was very wrong of me. You aren't a dick, Jensen. You're an enormous dick."

Jensen nods graciously. "See? How was that hard?"

"Not hard at all. Thanks for making me a better boss."

"Thank _you_ for wanting to be a better boss."

Jared stretches out his leg and aims a small kick at Jensen's ankle. "Yeah, so if we could back up a little; my point was what exactly does a change entail if you're not, um, putting in a transfer request?"

Jensen shrugs. "Danni's been telling me for years it's different here."

"I'm not sure how true that is, Jen," Jared cautions. After all, he's kind of a prime example of the sort of man mothers warned their daughters about. He's not particularly proud of it, but he's never seen the sense in lying to himself either.

Jensen shrugs again. "I guess we'll see."

Jared scowls. Even from the little Jensen has said, it's obvious he's been burned in the past. Danni might think dating is better here than in their former life somehow, but then it's Danni; he can't imagine anyone getting the better of her, whatever the situation. Jensen is different, or maybe Jared just feels differently about him, but either way he doesn't want to watch Jensen wander into a new dating arena wearing borrowed, rose-tinted glasses. In fact, he's not sure he wants Jensen dating, period. He's just formulating his argument, when Jensen snaps his fingers in front of his face. From his expression, it's clear he's been waiting for a response for a while.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"I was just asking what it is I'm doing here? Is there a cleaning schedule or—"

"No!" Jared says in instant rejection. "Just... hire a service in, you don't have to—I don't need you to do that."

"Uh, okay so... what do you need me for? Cooking?"

Jared pauses, because seriously, he really needs to stop and think before this all gets more awkward than it is already. "Yeah, cooking. Or we could order in? No, that doesn't make sense. Cooking is fine and, um, keeping track of things around here; you know, the day staff, that kind of thing."

Jensen purses his lips, and then nods. "Okay, I can do that." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself, and Jared hesitates.

"You sure? Because you don't sound sure."

"Yeah, this is what I wanted." He nods again, more certainly this time. "It'll be good."

Jared's hoping the same thing. He's very aware though it's probably not for the same reason.

*~*

Jared has had a long-standing deal with his kitchen appliances whereby he agrees not to touch the huge, ridiculously expensive coffee machine and in return it doesn’t dispense foul tasting beverages at ass-o’clock in the morning. Instead, he’ll grab one of his largest mugs, dump in an ever-changing amount of instant coffee, two packs of sweetener, and a splash of milk, and he drinks the resulting scalding, gag-inducing brew while imagining what his first real coffee of the day will taste like. In truth, his instant coffee has tasted no worse than his experiments with the space-age coffee machine, but it does involve significantly less cleanup and steam burns.

Now that Jensen has moved in, the coffee situation has improved immensely. Unfortunately it's come with a trade-off—mostly in sleep.

Jared scrubs the heels of his hands into his stinging eyes in an attempt to improve his blurry vision. It's been a week of late nights introducing Jensen to his favorite movies, bars and video games, and increasingly early mornings when Jensen introduces Jared to his... unique style of food preparation.

 

This morning, he'd woken with a jolt to find Isis sitting on his pillow, glowing, green-eyed gaze fastened unblinkingly on Jared's face. His panicked yell had brought Sadie and Harley running, ready to protect their master. They'd circled the room frantically before ascertaining that the problem related to the tiny furry creature taking up a corner of his bed, and the rescue mission had turned instead into them fixing him with twin stares of canine contempt.

"C'mon, guys, don't look at me like that!" Jared groans, flopping back down into the previously warm comfort of his awesome bed that's now slightly tainted by his cowardice. Not that he's calling it that out loud. "I defy anyone not to be freaked out waking up to that." Sadie lets out a little _wuff_ of what he decides is agreement, and exits the room. Jared turns on his side and glares over at the cat who looks back at him unimpressed. "Have you been here all night? Wait, how did you even get in? I'm sure my door was closed last night," he mutters, trying to think back. "Pretty sure."

"If you're planning on lying there till you get an answer," Jensen voice comes from the foot of the bed, "we're going to need to look into moving the bathroom closer to the bed."

Jared jumps and lets out another strangled yell, and this time Isis is offended enough by the ruckus to hop lightly down off the bed. Harley, who knows full well he isn't allowed on the bed, is delighted by the move and dances happily around the cat, lowering his head to drop a welcoming lick to Isis's head. Unfortunately, Harley's tongue and Isis's head are about the same size; Isis lets out a hissing warning at the drool attack, and stalks out of the door, tail thrashing angrily behind him. Harley's head droops at the rebuke, and he follows behind at a respectful distance.

"So it was you that let him in?" Jared turns to Jensen to demand. "You do know I have an alarm clock, right? I don't need an extra one on legs." The room is dark, shadows lurking in the corners, and the only real light is coming from the open doorway he can't quite see from his current supine position. Jensen sinks down onto the bed beside him, and Jared is abruptly grateful that he's wearing sleep pants and a t-shirt. The mixture of Jensen, soft sheets and even softer lighting is having a confusing effect on Jared's currently half-asleep mind.

He wants to reach over the few inches separating them and pull Jensen down beside him, wrestle him into position so he can use him as a human pillow to catch a few more hours sleep wrapped tight around him, and then later, when his head isn't buzzing with exhaustion, tire them both out in entirely more pleasant ways.

"I know," Jensen says, jolting Jared out of his daydream. Jared reaches down with studied casualness to rearrange the sheets over his hardening cock, not willing to trust the gloom to hide the effects the images of Jensen naked and spread out across his bed have caused. He wonders if he'd be more freaked out if he wasn't so damn tired. Jensen's next words though manage to distract him totally from the much more pleasant fantasy world he's been inhabiting: "But it won't be going off for a few more hours yet."

 _A few more hours?_ Jared lurches up to snatch his cell phone from the bedside table—checking out the time on his actual alarm clock would involve leaning over Jensen, too risky given his current half aroused state—and pulls it toward him. He has to blink twice before he's sure he's not misreading what he sees. "Four AM?" he asks anyway, just to be sure.

Jensen glances at his bare wrist, frowns and then nods. "Um, yeah, probably about that."

"Is the house on fire?"

"What? No. I mean, there was a _small_ fire earlier." He lifts his hand from where it's resting on the bed, tantalizingly close to Jared's thigh, and holds it up, thumb and forefinger bare millimeters apart to indicate how insignificant the fire apparently was. "But it was completely containable. And it's out now," he hurries to assure at Jared's small gasp of horror.

"Okay, well, that's... good, but what's with the early wake up call? Is there a problem? Did the studio call?"

"No, it's just," Jensen hesitates, apparently only then picking up on Jared's less than enthusiastic reception. "Breakfastisready," he finishes in a rush.

"Jen, it's _4:00 AM._ I, _we,_ went to bed like two hours ago," Jared says as calmly as he can manage. He's naturally an early riser, his personal trainer has told him he has a near perfect circadian rhythm, up and ready for exercise with the dawn, but this was nowhere near dawn, and exercise, apart from one, very specific, Jensen-related, form of exercise, is the last thing on his mind right now. The only thing less appealing, in fact, is food.

"I made coffee," Jensen says hopefully.

At his words, Jared's nose abruptly picks up the aroma of deep, rich coffee that he knows from experience will be sweet and hot with the perfect amount of cream, and just a hint of vanilla. He blinks when Jensen holds out the mug, but the questions are a lot less important than taking his first sip of the day. He feels significantly more mellow immediately after, and scoots up in the bed to rest against the pillows piled behind him.

"Thanks," he says, and sighs when Jensen continues to watch him. "Okay, give me five minutes and I'll be down."

Jensen leaps to his feet, beaming grin on his face. In the distance, a smoke detector begins to shrill.

*~*

By the time Jared has joined Jensen in the kitchen, the second, apparently equally containable fire, is nowhere in evidence. What is apparent, is that Jensen has used every cooking pot and piece of cutlery that Jared owns, and several that he didn't know he did, all of which are spread over every single inch of the counter-top.

The juicer has been running since he sat down, no end in sight, until with a small _pop_ and the smell of burnt-out electronics, it grinds to a halt. There's a few muttered curses, and then a glass with a dribble of juice appears at Jared's elbow. Jared picks it up, shoots a smile of thanks at Jensen who's watching him worriedly, and lifts it to his lips. The orange juice is bitter and mostly pulp, so he has the unpleasant sensation of chewing when he expected to be drinking, and for a worrying second the pulp refuses to go down at all. He swallows manfully and looks up to find Jensen watching him anxiously.

"Thanks, Jen. It's good."

Jensen lets out a sigh of relief. "It's fresh squeezed," he says, already moving over to the stove and a pan that's spitting furiously. "Sorry there wasn't much. I could probably make more," he says, brows creased in concentration.

"No," Jared says hurriedly. Jensen glances sharply over at him, and Jared smiles. "Don't want to be too full for breakfast." He pats his morning-sensitive stomach gingerly to show he's serious.

"Right, great," Jensen says, "and speaking of which..." He spins round, a serving platter in his hand that's about the size of a garbage can lid, that he places in front of Jared with a flourish.

Jared stares down at the mountain of food; bacon, sausages, eggs (scrambled and fried), steak, potatoes, ham and pancakes are all arranged haphazardly on the plate, swimming happily in oil. He takes his fork to probe gently at the tip of the mountain where all the most burnt breakfast meats seem to have congregated, and then lifts an edge of a gooey pancake midway down to discover a piece of raw bacon peeping back at him.

"Wow, this is a... lot of food," he says, trying to surreptitiously urge the bacon back into the middle of the pile. 

"Yeah, I had some problems with portion size initially," Jensen says cheerfully, because apparently he considers he's found the perfect ratio now of man to meat, "and my timings were a little off the past couple of days, too," he reminds. "That's why I decided to get an early start today. I think it really paid off."

"Definitely," Jared says. He glances at the clock high up on the kitchen wall. It's almost 4:30 now. He has to leave for the studio at 8:00. "Um, aren't you having any?"

"Nah." Jensen slides into the chair beside him, a sturdy, earthenware mug of tea in his hand. "I'm not really a big breakfast eater," he says, eying Jared's plate with satisfaction. "Not like you."

Jared sighs and takes a firmer grip on his fork, willing his stomach to cooperate. 

A sound provides a welcome diversion, and Jared turns to watch Harley pad in through the open french doors, water glistening on his coat from the light drizzle that's falling. Isis is sitting on his back. He looks like a tiny furry general, riding into battle on an equally furry horse.

"Jensen," Jared uses his fork to point over at the two of them. "Is your cat riding my dog?"

Jensen spares them a brief glance, obviously far more interested in watching Jared traverse Mount Doom. "No. He's a cat, he can't _ride._ How would he hold the reins?"

"I'm sorry, is your cat balancing on my dog?" Jared waits, eyebrows raised for Jensen to catch up.

There must be something in his tone that alerts Jensen, because he straightens, looking back over at Isis and Harley to examine the scene much more closely this time. "I—that's a thing, right? Dogs and cats do this kind of stuff all the time?"

"What? Ride each other around the house? Uh, no, not often. In fact, I'm gonna have to go with never."

"Oh, you little..." Jensen trails off into furious muttering, and raises an accusing finger to his pet. "Get off the freaking dog, you trouble-making little—" He stands up, and Harley, always up for a game of chase, makes a dash for door, Isis hanging on with no discernible effort, and Jensen hot on their heels.

When he's sure they're out of sight, Jared jumps to his feet and grabs his plate. He has a lot of food to hide.

*~*

"Jen, you here?" Jared calls out as soon as he enters the house. Jensen's answering response comes from the kitchen and Jared suppresses an instinctive shudder. Balancing the pile of slippery, glossy car magazines in his hand, he shuts the door and reluctantly heads toward the back of the house. Thankfully, he can detect no smells of cooking, or the more usual burning, along the way, and he enters the room to find Jensen seated at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of tea next to him and Jared's laptop open in front of him.

"Hey, great, you decided to brave it at last! How're you getting on?" he asks, pleased. He's been trying for a few days to convince Jensen to at least _try_ using the computer, but so far Jensen has been reluctant, insisting he doesn't need it.

"Okay," Jensen says, reaching up as if he's going to snap the lid closed, when a familiar voice calls out from the speakers:

" _Hey, Jared!_ " Jared walks around behind Jensen's chair, and drops his hands down onto Jensen's shoulders to peer down at the image filling the screen.

"Danni? Wow, Jen," he adds, surprised and maybe a tiny bit disappointed that Danni is the one who's been helping Jensen figure things out. "Looks like you really got he hang of this quick."

Jensen shrugs, and Jared can feel the muscles in his arms bunch and shift with the movement. He presses his fingers deeper into the surprisingly tense muscles and Jensen breathes deep, and then lets his head loll back until it's almost resting on Jared's midsection. A small cough reminds him they aren't alone, and Jared freezes and forces himself to pull slowly away. For a moment, he has no idea what to do with his hands so he stuffs them both into his pockets. It's uncomfortable, and he know he looks stiff and unnatural, so he backs up a few paces and attempts a nonchalant lean against the center island.

The new position doesn't help, and now Jared just feels like he's about to drop into a Zoolander pose. The only consolation is that Jensen won't know what that is, so he forces himself to grit his teeth and hang in there.

"I was just looking up your movies," Jensen says, a little guiltily. "Danni was helping."

"Hey, by the time I showed up, Jensen was managing fine all on his own," Danni says, a half grin on her lips. "I told him, he wouldn't believe how much information is out there with just a few quick clicks."

Jared jerks upright, and nearly overbalances when he discovers that at some point his hands have curled into two tight fists in his pockets that won't come out now. His brain goes into panic mode trying to figure out what exactly Jensen would have found by Googling his name, and he curses himself for pushing Jensen to go online in the first place. Not that he has anything to hide exactly, but the gossip sites hadn't been particularly forgiving of his numerous break-ups, and Jared's the first to admit that he hasn't always used the best judgment in all his relationships, or in his photoshoots. _Oh, crap, his photoshoots._

All attempts at a casual sprawl forgotten, he yanks his hands free and strides over to drag out the chair next to Jensen. Jensen shoots him a surprised glance, but he pretends not to notice as he busies himself finding the minimized web page and reaches over to scroll down it with the mouse. The screen opens up to reveal that the first open tab is the IMDb, which is mostly fine, although the message boards before he stopped reading them always seemed to contain a very special brand of crazy. The second tab opens to a search engine he doesn't recognize: Witchfinder General, complete with a tiny witch roving across the top of the page wearing purple, sparkling robes and a deerstalker. It's otherwise set out a lot like Google, so the search results are topped by images of him, all in varying degrees of undress, and then directly underneath it—

Jared closes the browser, and sits back in his chair. "Cool," he forces himself to say into the silence that's fallen. "Just, uh, checking you found me."

"Yeah," Danneel says, but her voice is more gentle teasing than mocking, "because Padalecki is such a common name."

A cup is pushed into his hand, and Jared glances up to find Jensen watching him. "Thanks," he says, welcoming the warmth. He takes a sip, and glances back over at the laptop. Danneel is back to being fullscreen, although he doesn't actually remember doing it. She's wearing a red satin robe that keeps sliding artfully from one shoulder, and she's petting a familiar blue-black bundle of fur.

"Hey," Jared says, leaning forward. "Is that—wow, that cat looks just like Isis."

Jensen shakes his head. "Yeah, same litter," he says quickly, "different cat."

The cat lets out a chirruping sound and stands up, only to lose his footing on the slippery surface of Danni's robe. He makes another, much louder protesting sound, and Harley appears in the open doorway, announcing his arrival with a deep bark. He dashes across the room, jumping up at the last second so that his paws are resting on the edge of the table, head cocked and sniffing at the air frantically.

Jared watches confused as the cat gives another little chirrup and crouches low, entire rear end swaying as if he's readying himself to pounce.

"I think we'd better cut this short, guys," Danni says, and reaches forward to grab the Isis-alike, who hisses. The sound sets Harley off who begins howling mournfully and scrabbling to actually get up on the table. By the time Jared has managed to coax him down, Danni is gone and Jensen is closing the laptop lid.

"Sorry, boy," Jensen says, scratching Harley's head. The dog gives one last mournful whine and slinks under the table to rest his head across Jensen's feet.

"I guess Danni's cat sounded like Isis as well as looking like him," Jared says thoughtfully. His dog has become rather embarrassingly attached to Jensen's cat, to the point that Jensen had given in and placed Isis's cat bed in Harley and Sadie's room. Apparently it was easier than having all three animals in with him every night. Unfortunately, Harley's devotion didn't seem to be entirely returned, and when Isis went on one of his walkabouts that often lasted hours or whole days, Harley was left wandering the house morosely. Lately, it had gotten so bad that not even his honking pheasant could console him. In fact, if he'd been a human, and Isis wasn't an entirely different species, Jared would have said he was in love.

Sometimes, he worries that his own behavior with Jensen is a little too like Harley's for comfort.

"Must have," Jensen says dismissively, but he reaches out his hand to rub soothing fingers along Harley's fur, until the dog looks calmer, if not totally settled.

Seeing that Jensen's mug is almost empty, and that he's currently trapped by Harley's moping head, Jared goes over to the stove for the tea kettle. He grabs a fresh mug and one of the weird teas that Jensen favors and digs out a lemon wedge from the fridge. When he gets back to the table, mug balanced carefully in his hand, Jensen has the magazines and brochures fanned out in front of him.

"Shopping for a new car?" Jensen asks, flicking through the closest one.

"No, it's my sister's graduation in a couple of weeks and I'm getting her a car. I thought you could help me whittle down the choices."

"I can't drive and I know nothing about cars," Jensen points out. "So you were wise to come to me for advice."

"Don't be a smartass; I don't need you to repair it or chauffeur her around in it, just help me pick out the one most likely to appeal to a teenage girl."

"You know being gay doesn't make me a girl, right? Because that's kind of un-PC thinking, dude."

"I know, but you're so pretty and sparkly." Jared grins and pushes the mug forward in apology. "It makes it hard to remember sometimes."

"I prefer 'handsome' or 'dashing' in a pinch, but pretty is also acceptable," Jensen says begrudgingly.

"Duly noted."

"Okay," Jensen says, frowning down at an open page, "so, there's a lot to choose from here. Hasn't she ever mentioned what kind of car she'd like?"

"Um, I'm not—we don't really talk all that much," Jared admits.

"You don't?"

"We didn't grow up together." Jared crosses his arms across his chest, and feels himself sitting straighter in his seat. "We're family and we love each other, but I guess we don't have that shared history siblings usually do."

"I'm sorry, that must be tough. My family is close—too close, sometimes, but I can't imagine what it would be like not to have them around."

"Yeah, well, it is what it is."

"Did you ever wish it was different? That you'd just had a normal childhood?"

"It nearly was," Jared says, then holds his breath as Jensen reaches for his tea. He feels a little jolt of pride when Jensen takes a sip and nods his approval. "When Meg was eight, she got sick," he says, the warm feeling of pleasure from moments ago abruptly draining away. "Up till then, Mom was traveling with me most of the time, on modeling assignments, TV sets, that kind of thing, and my dad and aunt Clare looked after Meg and Jeff. We came home though as soon as we knew. At first, it was just supposed to be for a couple of weeks until she got better. No one realized how ill she was, and by the time we found out, there was no way my mom would leave her."

"What about you?"

"Everything got put on hold; I went back to school, we concentrated on Meg getting well, on keeping each other afloat. But then the hospital bills started coming, and the insurance wouldn't cover it all. My folks tried to pretend we were okay, but Jeff and me knew it was getting bad. We were close to losing our house when I got offered a show of my own. I won't bother telling you what it was," Jared says, fond grin briefly tilting his lips, "but it was a huge career break. Before that, it'd just been bit parts on other people's shows, so it was a big deal, not just because of the money. We couldn't turn it down."

"Wait, how old were you?"

"Twelve."

"Shit, you did that on your own?"

"Pretty much. I mean, we had to hire a chaperone because I wasn't old enough to be legally emancipated then."

"That's just—I can't—"

"It was worth it," Jared says quietly. "The money, what we could do with it. It was worth it."

"Yeah," Jensen says. He reaches over and pats Jared's shoulder. His hand lingers, cupping the curve of bone and muscle. The warmth of the touch travels down Jared's arm and warms him from the inside. "They're lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky to have them. Really lucky," Jared says, remembered terror that they were going to lose Meg roughening his voice.

"Jay," Jensen begins, and Jared tenses. He tells himself he doesn't know why. "On the computer, I wasn't looking, I swear, but I saw some stuff from back from when you were a kid. About your agent."

Jared considers lying for a second, telling Jensen the Internet's filled with crap, which it is, and downplaying the whole thing as no big deal, which it wasn't. But Jensen would know. He might not call him on it, but he'd know. Jared stands, takes a few steps with no real destination in mind, and then circles the table to sink back down onto the chair he's just vacated.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, that was pretty messed up; not long after the first episode aired, my agent was arrested. His agency represented a lot of child actors back then, so it was big news. A couple of his old clients had come forward. They were adults by then, and said they were going public about what his... commission actually was."

"Fuck, Jared, fuck," Jensen, mutters. "What happened?"

Jared taps his foot against Jensen's ankle, and Jensen leans in to him. It helps a little. "Well, first off, my mom freaked out," Jared says. "She came swooping down and threatened to pull me off the show. Actually, she kicked up such a stink the network were close to dropping me even without all the news stories springing up and making it worse."

" _Worse?_ "

Jared nods. "When shit like that starts flying around, the network's first reaction is to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the bad publicity. When it's a _kids'_ show and there's suddenly the possibility the twelve-year-old star is going to start making some revelations of his own, they don't even want to be in the same hemisphere."

"God, it was true? The things they said about him?"

"I don't know," Jared says, eyes dropping to trace the patterns he's swirling through the coffee cup ring on the table. He really should use a coaster. "It never went to court. He had a stroke while he was out on bail, and never regained consciousness. He died a few weeks later."

"No, not what they said," Jensen shakes his head. Jared notices distantly he looks unwell, pale and sickly under the harsh kitchen lights. "I was asking about you. What did he do to you?"

"Nothing. I mean nothing really. He was creepy, and okay maybe sometimes he said some stuff... Anyway, right up until Meg got sick, my mom was with me pretty much all the time, so whatever might have happened—" Jared pushes the chair away from the table, away from Jensen. "Look, this is stupid. Nothing happened; no point dragging up ancient history."

Jensen nudges his own chair closer, ducks his head so he can see Jared's face. "What about after Meg got sick?"

"Fuck," Jared hisses. "You just can't—nothing happened, okay? He just got a little more...detailed in the stuff he was saying, and sometimes he got a bit handsy, but, seriously, that's it."

"How often were you alone with him?"

Jared considers protesting again, but Jensen is focused on him with laser-like intensity. He doesn't think anything short of an explosion is going to distract him, and even then only long enough to dig themselves free of the rubble. "Enough," he finally says. "When my career took off we had more meetings, coaching sessions, sometimes just going over lines. Nothing happened, I mean, nothing more than I already told you. He was old by then, too old I guess and, I think as far as he was concerned, so was I."

Jensen shakes his head. His lips are set in a thin, tight line, and there's a dull flush of heat edging his cheekbones. Jared absently notes it really brings out the color of his eyes. "What did you tell the cops?"

Jared startles. "Are you kidding? I told you about my mom—if I'd come forward, said anything... Man, the show would have been toast for sure. Hell, I probably wouldn't have worked again or not till I got past that awkward, illegal stage anyway."

"Wait, your family went along with it?"

"What? No, I didn't tell them any of this. I—I've never told anyone," he says slowly, that fact somehow escaping him till then. He'd always told himself it was no big deal, that Monroe had been a fucking pervert, sure, but Jared had been spared any real damage. Lucky, compared with the kids who went before him.

As an adult, Jared could view Monroe and his filthy mouth and wandering hands, aged and weak, as laughable and pathetic. As a child, it had been terrifying. He'd believed for the longest time the insidious whispers; he can still remember every single one. It had taken years before he could push them out of his mind whenever he felt a flare of attraction, years before sex and the sensations of dirty and wrong didn't have to be navigated as cautiously as an icebound mountain pass.

Now though, he wonders if he ever really overcame it or if he just buried it deep enough that he could fool himself into believing it never happened at all.

"I'm glad you told me," Jensen says, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Yeah," Jared says. He feels lighter, stupidly giddy. "Yeah, me too."

"I just wish you hadn't had to deal with it on your own, that your sister didn't get sick, that I'd known you then—" Jensen pauses, and then shakes his head. "Never mind. If wishes were thrushes, right?"

"Thanks, man. For what it's worth, I wish I'd known you then, too. And it's horses."

"What?"

"The saying—it's _if wishes were horses_ , not thrushes."

"Not the version I know, but yeah, if wishes were horses, I'd make sure I transformed him on gelding day. No, strike that," Jensen says, eyes flashing like green fire. If he'd had a tail like Isis, Jared's pretty sure it would have been flicking furiously side to side behind him, "glue factory day."

"Thanks, Jen," he says. "For—y'know, everything, and also for keeping your threats appropriately magically themed."

Jensen blinks, looks up at him, and the fire banks, glowing warm now, but not dangerously hot. "Any time, man, any time."

*~*

Jensen is across the lot, talking to one of the set builders. Jared is watching the other man through narrowed eyes. He's not sure of the guy's name, but he's pretty sure he's a player. Or at the very least a hugger. He'd even tried it on Jared when they'd met, but the dude had backed away pretty damn quick, stuttering awkward apologies when Jared had set him straight with one quick, deadly look. It wasn't that he minded the contact, and despite Chad's ongoing advice, he was nowhere near Christian Bale levels of assholery, but the other man's attention had obviously not been on Jared's movie-star self but rather on his far too gullible assistant.

At the time, Jared had given serious thought to getting the guy fired, or at least moved to another show, which was basically the same thing, but in the end he decided it wasn't worth the risk of looking like a dick in front of... everyone.

The soft muttering beside him distracts him, and he glances to his right where Gabe had been a moment earlier. In fact, he's still there, but now Gabe's leveling a similar scowling glare at the two figures across the set. Gabe apparently has the same issues Jared does with the predatory nature of Jensen's new BFF.

"Hey, Gabe," he says, snapping his fingers in front of his face. He doesn't want Gabe drawing attention to his own over interest in Jensen and his new friend, and two pairs of eyes carry more weight than one. It's not easy, but Jared works hard to keep the buzzing annoyance out of his tone, because he appreciates Gabe solidarity on the matter.

Gabe jerks around, apology on his lips, and Jared holds up a hand to forestall him. "It's fine; the guy's a jackass, I know, but Jensen's big enough and smart enough to figure it out on his own." Jared's aware he's been starting to get a little possessive about Jensen lately. Too much time in close quarters he knows, but it's been surprisingly hard to keep a check on it. He needs to trust Jensen more.

Gabe looks surprised. "Tony? Actually, he's pretty cool. He brought in a muffin basket for Stu last week. You know, Stu?" Gabe prompts at Jared's blank expression. "The guy who got pecked by the ostrich and kicked in the, um..." he curves his hand into a duckbill-like shape and mimes a sharp jabbing motion toward his cheek and then his crotch.

"Oh, _that_ guy." Jared winces a little in remembered sympathy, and then frowns. "He brought him a muffin basket?" Jared should have bought Stu a muffin basket. Or at least remembered his name.

"Yeah." Gabe nods eagerly. "And cupcakes for the rest of the crew. He made them himself. Baking is like a hobby of his, um, or something," he finishes a little less enthusiastically when Jared's eyes narrow into angry slits. Jared remembers the cupcakes. They were fucking delicious.

Jared takes back his previous feelings of goodwill toward Gabe, and transfers his glare to him instead. "Don't you have work to do?"

"I—yes, that's what I came to update you on. Your dry cleaning?" he prompts. Jared tears his gaze away from Tony, who's now guiding Jensen's hands on the trigger of a nail gun. Jensen's delighted laugh rings out when the nails hammer home. The last thing Jared wants is for Jensen to think he's a buzzkill, but he's pretty sure Tony is breaking some sort of union rules with his little show and tell session. He'd be remiss if he didn't at least look into reporting it.

"I've visited all the dry cleaners close to the studio, but nothing so far, so I'm widening my search to encompass a twenty mile perimeter around your house. It makes sense that Genevieve used somewhere closer to your home than—"

"Shit, sorry, man," Jared interrupts. "I completely forgot you were still doing that."

Genevieve's abrupt disappearance had left behind more problems than Jared had initially realized. When he'd first discovered exactly how much of his wardrobe was missing, presumably waiting collection from a dry cleaners somewhere, he'd been too embarrassed to admit to Jensen that he had no idea where his clothes were or even where to begin the search for them. Luckily, Gabe was rarely more than a few feet away working on whatever it was that he did, so Jared had been able to set him to the task of tracking down his missing items. Gabe had seemed delighted by the mission, so Jared had sent him off armed with his scrap books of tabloid shots, helpful Post-it notes identifying the ones of him wearing the missing clothes, and instructions to focus on stores that had a signed picture of him somewhere on the wall. No way was some little dry cleaning company gonna be cleaning his clothes and not leaping on the chance of free publicity with a Jared Padalecki headshot.

"That's okay, I haven't given up—"

"No, I mean you don't need to look anymore; Jensen found them."

"What? He... how—?" Gabe seems to be having difficulty forming sentences, something that isn't that unusual when he's in Jared's presence, but there's a darker edge to his stuttering. Something like growing anger, which is new.

"Hey, Jared. Gabe." Gabe's mini meltdown has blinded Jared to Jensen's approach, and he turns, grin splitting his face wide when he realizes Jensen has abandoned his carpentry lesson to join him. Also, he has coffee.

Jared has the cup in his hand before Jensen has even stopped walking. "Thanks, Jen," he says, wiping foam from his upper lip. "I needed that."

"How did you have time to—?" Jensen's indulgent smile fades to be replaced by a look of confusion. "He was just with Tony," Gabe is muttering, words directed to Jared now, "and then, two seconds later, he's here and, _poof_ , coffee? No—I, no that isn't—"

"Gabe," Jared starts carefully. "I guess you need to get going? Oh, and thanks again for the dry cleaning thing."

"What? Oh." Gabe straightens up, spares Jensen a glancing look and nods. "Yes, I have to—yes," he mutters, and is gone.

"Is he okay?" Jensen asks, forehead wrinkling.

"Yeah. I mean, as okay as he gets anyway. He's been on a mission to find my dry cleaning."

"I told you, I picked it up already."

"I know, but Gabe didn't."

"Ah." Jensen nods, but he doesn't seem completely satisfied by the explanation. "He's probably kinda pissed he wasted his time."

"I guess." Jared fiddles with the lid of his cup; he's trying to figure out how to work some questions about Tony into the conversation without looking like a complete idiot, when he's distracted by a muffled shout that sounds a lot like Jensen's name. It doesn't come from any of the people milling around nearby and he cocks his head in an attempt to track the direction of the sound better. It doesn't really help though, because Jensen is suddenly talking abnormally loudly about something Jared's not really paying attention to.

"Jensen, can you hear that? What _is_ that noise? Hang on, is it coming from...?" Jared sidles closer and bends his head until his ear is roughly on a level with Jensen's waist. Jensen squawks and bats at the side of Jared's exposed neck, but Jared just ducks in closer. It's only when his brain catches up to the fact that he's basically eye level with Jensen's crotch that he shoots upright, managing somehow to avoid smashing the back of his head into Jensen's jaw in the process.

"I think your pants are talking to you," Jared says, slightly breathless. 

Jensen shakes his head and smacks his hand flat to the seat of his jeans. "What? No. _What?_ Of course they're not talking. That would be crazy—"

"Jensen, baby, I know you're there," Jensen's pants announce in a now perfectly audible female voice, warm and cajoling with a slight hint of an accent running through it. "Jensen? Honey, dull as it is in here, don't think I won't talk to your behind for the next twenty minutes, because you know that I will. "

Jensen closes his eyes and drops his head back, face scrunched in what looks like pain. When he opens his eyes again, he carefully avoids Jared's gaze and reaches into the back pocket of his jeans to drag his cell phone out. 

Getting Jensen to use his phone has been like fighting a losing battle. He keeps it switched off most of the time, insisting he's trying to save the battery. When Jared pointed out that there wasn't much use in keeping it fully charged if it was never actually on, Jensen had simply changed tactics: What does he need a phone for when there's rarely any time he isn't within shouting distance of Jared, anyway? Since Jared had convinced Jensen to extend his stay at his home (after he'd paid for his housekeeper to spend the summer visiting her late husband's family in Madrid, and told Jensen she was recovering from a broken hip), Jared couldn't really argue with that, so they'd compromised: if Jensen was going to be out of earshot, the phone would stay on. Jared has only tried calling Jensen once since then—it went straight to voicemail.

Now though, the phone is switched on, Jared assumes by accident rather than design, and is lit up like a Christmas tree. Jared blinks; he hadn't been aware that the external screens could be personalized like that, and then he blinks again when Jensen opens it to reveal a red-headed woman beaming out from the crystal-clear screen, hand lifted in a happy wave.

"Jensen, _acushla!_ This is marvelous! Your cousin Danni says this is how your new people speak to each other? Am I doing it right? Such a wonderful idea; now I can talk to you anytime!"

"No, Mom," Jensen sounds panicked, "not anytime. You have to call first—"

"Baby, I did! Didn't you hear me?"

"Yes," Jensen says. He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I heard you. Jared heard you, too." 

Jared's ears prick at the half-hidden note of warning in his voice, but Jensen doesn't add anything else, so Jared uses the lull in the conversation as an opportunity to lean in to Jensen's space and introduce himself. 

"Hey, Mrs. Ackles. It's really good to meet you," he says. Up close, the picture on the screen really is perfect: clear and totally lifelike, as if Jensen's mother's head had been shrunk down to miniature size and set inside the phone. It sort of reminds him of _Willy Wonka_ (the original, not that remake with Johnny Depp being creepy as hell), and the kid who got miniaturized and sent into the TV, which in turn gets him thinking about The Ring (also the original, so actually _Ringu_ instead of the not-so-bad, but definitely less creepy remake).

Jared shivers a little, caught up briefly in the image of Jensen's mom crawling out of his phone, and he jumps when his forearm is grasped in a tight grip. He shivers again when he recognizes it as Jensen's.

It takes more effort than he'd expect to pull his gaze up from the oddly compelling sight of Jensen's paler hand wrapped around the much darker skin of his own muscled forearm. When he does, it's to find Jensen watching him, his forehead pleated in concern.

"You okay?" he asks quietly. Jared suddenly remembers Jensen's mom has probably seen all of it, every flicker of emotion on his face, and his stomach drops like a stone.

"Me? Sure, fine," he says, obnoxiously cheerful. "Just... spaced out for a second there. Sorry, Mrs. Ackles. Trying to memorize lines always leaves me a little loopy." He grins, makes sure it's the full wattage version he uses for publicity, and knows it's worked when she blinks a little dazedly. It doesn't take her long to shake it off though, before she's leaning forward, a delighted smile of her own firmly in place.

"Jensen, why didn't you didn't tell me how handsome your new friend is? And look at those eyes! He has some fae in him for sure."

"Mom, _don't—_ "

"Thank you, Mrs. Ackles," Jared says over him. Jensen's mom is cute, and maybe a little odd—he's really hoping that fae is something good—but he's used to this, and mostly enjoys it. Flirting, compliments, and fake awe make up a good chunk of his daily life; if he didn't get at least a little thrill out of it, he'd have gone crazy long ago.

"Call me Donna, sweetheart," she insists. "I'm sure we're going to be good friends, and since good friends shouldn't have secrets, tell me, are you married, courting, settled down already? Because my Jensen—"

"Mom!" Jensen barks. Donna lets out a little squawk when he moves as if to snap his phone shut. The frightened sound seems to jolt Jensen out of his temper, and he sighs, runs an apologetic finger around the edge of the phone. "Sorry, Mom," he says. His head hangs down a little, shoulders pulled up tight. He looks about ten years old, flushed and unhappy at the idea of making his mom angry at him. Jared edges in subtly ( _he thinks it's subtly anyway_ ) closer, silently offering his support.

"I should hope so, too," Donna says, voice tight with hurt. "I swear, I don't know what gets into you sometimes, Jensen. It's no wonder you're always butting heads with your father lately—you're like two peas in a pod, getting all riled up about the _silliest_ things!"

"I'm sorry," Jensen says again. Jared nudges him surreptitiously with his shoulder, and Jensen looks up, smiles a little shamefacedly when he catches Jared's worried gaze. "It's just, you know, Jared is my boss—"

"Boss?" Mrs. Ackles waves the word away like an annoying fly. "No one cares about that, and Jared doesn't mind me asking, do you, Jared?"

"Um, no, of course not—"

"See, Jensen! Jared says he doesn't mind. So, sweetheart, you were telling us about your love life?"

"Well, I guess I don't really have one at the moment. I split up with my fiancée a little while ago—"

"How recently?" Donna cuts in to demand.

"Um, six months? Maybe a little longer."

"Six months? Oh, that's plenty of time to be over it! Or get back together if you've made a mistake, I suppose." Her eyes narrow, and Jared suddenly sees the family resemblance to Danneel. "Any chance of that?"

"Yeah, no, I don't think that's gonna happen," Jared says, picturing Sandy's furious face the last time he'd seen her. She'd been hanging out her apartment window, insults flying thick and fast, while Jared's belongings rained down on him from above. She'd thrown him literally and figuratively out of her life, and Jared's only real emotion had been relief that his iPhone had somehow escaped its journey to the ground unscathed. "It was all pretty final."

"Good boy! What's done is done, but you're young. Sitting around moping is no good. Maybe Jensen—"

"Mom," Jensen interrupts firmly. "I love you, and I know you're just looking out for me, but stop, please."

"I don't know what you mean—"

"Jared doesn't date guys," Jensen says over her. There's no regret, no hesitation in his voice, and Jared freezes on the spot, weirdly hurt. Maybe it's true, but it would be nice if Jensen didn't sound so damn.... fine with it. It's actually pretty insulting. 

"What never? Are you sure?" Donna demands, short-circuiting the rush of anger that's begun zipping through Jared's veins. The question is directed to Jensen, but it's Jared she's looking at, and he would answer, but he's kind of afraid to trust his voice right now. Jensen looks over at him, then angles the phone so Jared is completely out of view. Jared isn't sure if he's relieved or not for the reprieve.

"Very sure," Jensen says firmly.

"But he's so perfect!" Donna all but wails. "And human, just like you wanted!"

Jensen stiffens, and Jared frowns curiously. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's all anybody wants, Mom. Look, I'm going to have to go. I'm actually at work right now," Jensen adds, shoulders straightening. He sounds slightly proud, Jared notices, chest puffed out a little, a tiny half grin lurking at the corners of his mouth.

It's pretty freaking adorable.

"Okay, baby," Donna says on a sigh. "Let me see Jared before you go." Jensen's hesitation is barely perceptible, but then he's turning the phone obligingly in Jared's direction.

"It was lovely to meet you, Jared. And if you change your mind about boys, or even _think_ about changing your mind, you let me know. I have a friend who can whip up the most amazing poti—"

"Okay, Mom, gotta go!" Jensen shouts. "Love you!" As Jensen snaps his phone shut Donna lets out another squeak of protest, abruptly cut off. Jensen winces, and turns to face Jared.

"Sorry, man, she just... she gets these ideas into her head, and then she can never figure out why everyone doesn't think they're as perfect as she does."

"She wants you to date me?" The idea isn't unimaginable, Jared suddenly realizes. He has more fun with Jensen going over work schedules than he's had with most of the women he's dated. Of course, the real stumbling block is what happens _after_ the evening ends. He tries to picture himself bending down to steal a goodnight kiss, and immediately has to mentally adjust for the height difference. Despite Jared's type consistently running to small, petite brunettes, he can't deny that there would be definite benefits to intimacy with someone closer in size. It would be nice too, not to have to worry about being too rough or gentling his hold. Jensen could give back as good as he got, he's sure.

"She wants me to date, period," Jensen says, and Jared works hard to wipe any hint of what he's just been thinking from his face. "She thinks the quicker I get it all out of my system, the quicker I'll come home."

Jared has never had an assistant that's lasted for longer than a year, but somehow now a year seems an impossibly short space of time. "Is that what you want?" he asks, holding his breath as he waits for a response.

Jensen shrugs. "I don't know. I'm having fun right now, but I guess it isn't really home," he says a little sadly.

Jared nods, but he's thinking that if this were a movie, true love would always win out against family and home.

*~*

The club isn't members only, but it's exclusive enough, and the door policy is strict enough, that Jared and people like him can come and know that they won't be bothered by wide-eyed tourists, hungry to take home souvenirs from their vacation more enviable than t-shirts or keychains.

Exclusivity doesn't mean, of course, that outside the club—just beyond the hulking door staff and the gold ropes guarding the entrance—the paparazzi won't be congregated. Jared sometimes thinks it's less about keeping the civilians out, and more about herding the newsworthy together, like some sort of celebrity zoo.

So when he's out, Jared generally tempers his drinking with just enough restraint to ensure he doesn't lose sight of the fact that he's pretty much always on show.

For some reason, tonight that awareness is sadly lacking; he's knocking back straight shots like they're water, and whatever little voice started off the night telling him to _be careful, slow down_ has long since given up and is now ordering drinks of its own.

The alcohol-fueled blur isn't having the desired affect though. Instead of leaving him mellow and loose, it's just making him obsessive and mopey. He can't concentrate on anything but Jensen and thoughts of what he's doing right now.

 

When Chad had arrived on set earlier that day, it hadn't struck Jared as odd. Recently Chad had been around a lot more than usual, which Jared had distantly assumed was to offer support during his painful transition from movie star to TV star.

Ten minutes into his arrival, the real reason for Chad's sudden inexplicable urge to nursemaid finally made sense.

" _You're_ going out on a date with Jensen? You? What the fuck, man!" Jared had managed to wait until Jensen was out of earshot before turning on Chad, fury making it hard to get the words out.

"What?" Chad reluctantly dragged his eyes away from Jensen's retreating ass to look over at Jared. "I go on dates all the time."

"Not with other guys!"

"Sure I do."

"No, no you don't. I would have noticed if you did. You would have _told_ me if you did, in horrible, horrible detail."

"Jaybird, I don't tell you half the shit I've got going on," Chad said with something like gentle pity. "If I did, it would blow your tiny, verging on vanilla mind. Also, and I'm not saying this would happen for sure, but there is a chance, a tiny, barely there chance, that if you did know everything, I might go down a little your estimation. Or, you know, to jail."

Jared shuddered, because the thought that Chad had been holding back... "Fuck, so what are you saying, that you're actually bi? I—why would you even bother to hide that?"

"I haven't been hiding it, man," Chad scoffed, and then paused thoughtfully. "Guess it's been a while though." He nodded, a hungry expression stealing over his face as he glanced back over to where Jensen had disappeared to, and Jared felt the band of rage in his chest tightening.

"All this time, and suddenly you can't keep it in your pants? I just—I don't get it, why Jensen, why now?" Jared demanded. He could hear the banked danger in his voice, but Chad, as usual, was oblivious.

"Um, because your assistant is hot? Because he obviously thinks I'm hot? Because neither of us has any ties and I'm in the middle of a dry spell right now?"

"A dry spell?" Jared clenched his hands into tight fists by his side. He was afraid of what would happen if he didn't keep track of exactly where they were. "Is that what this is about?"

"Huh? No, not just that," Chad said hurriedly, apparently finally picking up on the fact that Jared wasn't taking the discovery that Chad was again dating one of his assistants with his usual easy acceptance. "You know how I've been pretty down since my divorce came through; I think dating will be good for me, help me get my mind off Sophia."

"Pretty down?" Jared let out a huffing laugh. "Yeah, I was there when you got the divorce papers."

"So?"

"Chad, you were trying to dance with guy who delivered them!"

"Hey, man, grief makes us do weird shit. Who can predict how it'll affect them?"

"Well, I think we can safely say that most people who've suffered a loss don't traverse the seven stages of grief via a conga line."

Chad waved his objection away with careless hands. "Whatever. The point is, after the shock had worn off, I was completely bummed, for, like, days. I mean, I really thought Sophia was gonna be the one."

"Yeah, that's kinda what marriage means," Jared bit out.

"Oh, and this coming from the guy who's been engaged five times in the last six years?"

"Engaged," Jared repeated sullenly. "I didn't actually marry any of them."

"Because every one of them broke it off with your sorry ass before you could get them to the altar."

Jared was prevented from replying by a prickling along his spine, generally a good indicator that Jensen was somewhere nearby. Usually, there was a weird sensation of satisfied pleasure in his awareness of Jensen, but this time he’d have been more than happy to be wrong. He turned reluctantly to find that Jensen was, of course, there and watching him through wide eyes.

"You've been engaged _five_ times?"

"I—yeah, but that’s actually less than one engagement a year," he tried, and added a half-laugh to indicate how crazy it was that Jensen thought that was a lot, but it didn’t remove the look of surprise. "I wouldn’t have actually married any of them," Jared said desperately, "if they hadn’t . . . um, broken up with me first, I mean."

"Good to know," Chad said, slapping him hard on the back. "Jensen, you about ready?"

"Yeah," Jensen said, sparing Jared a small smile. "Is there anything you need before we head out?"

"Um, a coffee might be good?" Jared asked, and Jensen's smile turned fondly indulgent.

Jared barely waited until Jensen was out of hearing range this time before he grabbed Chad by the wrist. It took a lot of effort not to grind the bones under his fingers. He reminded himself Chad was his friend. It didn't really help.

"Jensen isn't like your usual hookups, Chad, don't treat him like he is."

"Hey, give a guy some credit! It's just a date, who knows where it'll lead? Don't assume it's just about sex."

Jared fixed Chad with a dark glare from under severely lowered brows. "It's just about sex, isn't it?"

Chad grinned, unabashed. "Okay, you got me, but Jesus, Jared, have you seen the lips on him? Can you imagine..." he trailed off, eyes dropping closed and his expression falling slack with imagined pleasure.

Jared shook free of the grip he still had on Chad's wrist, and turned away in disgust, but it didn't change the fact that he _could_ imagine. With just the tiniest prompt from Chad, suddenly all he could see was Jensen on his knees in front of him, hands gripping his hips, mouth stretched wide around his cock, taking him deep while he gazed up at Jared through dark lashes shading pleasure drenched eyes—

 

Jared growls under his breath, and despite all the alcohol singing in his veins, he can still feel his cock stiffening in his pants as his thoughts circle back again to that afternoon. Jensen had reappeared with his coffee before Jared had himself under control enough to threaten Chad with actual bodily harm—or probably more effectively, risk to the money his commission earns him. Jared had watched them go, heart beating heavy and occasionally out of time, and he'd tried to convince himself it was just down to the insane levels of caffeine in his system.

He throws back another shot, a ridiculously expensive whiskey that really doesn't deserve the contempt Jared's treating it with, and reaches for his phone. Not that he's going to call Jensen. Not that Jensen, the crazy battery hog, could answer if he did.

His elbow lands with a heavy thud into something soft and giving, and he hears a huff of pain to his left. He swivels bleary-eyed on his stool to apologize and then has to grab onto the bar and hang on when the room carries on spinning without him. When the floor finally settles back into a semi-stable state, he opens his eyes to try again with his apology and grins when he sees Gabe beside him, wincing and prodding at his ribs.

"Gabe!" he says, delighted by the sight of a friendly face. "What are you doing here? Did you tell them you know me? It's cool if you did," he adds generously, because Gabe is probably a little embarrassed to be caught out tossing Jared's name around, but hey, Jared's never had a problem with letting people bask in his reflected glory.

"No, um, you made me come? You said you were going to need someone to guard your stuff?" Gabe reaches down to the floor and comes back up clutching an iPad and a backpack that Jared vaguely recognizes.

"Oh." Jared frowns, and then stops when it makes the ache in his head worse. "Okay. How's it going? The guarding?" Jared prompts when Gabe stares at him, uncomprehending.

"Good. Great!" Gabe says. "It's all still here, sir."

Jared shakes his head muzzily. "You don't have to call me sir, Gabe."

"Oh, wow, thanks! I, seriously, that—"

"—'Mr. Padalecki', is fine." Jared watches perplexed as Gabe sort of deflates. He's really kind of small, and Jared can't help but think that for anyone seeing them from behind, it would look like Jared is out with his kid, who he probably had to pick up under the arms to lift him on to the stool, because he can't quite manage it by himself. Jared eyes the stools consideringly; they're high, but Jared has really been working on his upper body strength recently. He wonders if Gabe will let him try. He thinks Jensen would. Jensen is a great assistant. He only realizes he's said all that out loud when Gabe replies,

"Um, yeah, I was hoping to talk to you about that actually, about Jensen, if you had time—"

"No, I don't want to talk about Jensen," Jared says sullenly. "He won't be talking about me. He'll be talking about blowjobs and handjobs and what a shit boss I am. Or boyfriend."

"I didn't mean that kind of talking—"

"And it's not fair because I'm actually a pretty good boyfriend. But it's hard, y'know?" He glances over at Gabe to see if he gets it and finds him staring back, a look of growing panic in his eyes. Jared thinks about shutting up, but his mouth is already open and it seems like it would be harder to close it than to carry on. "I try though, to keep it up, keep being the guy they want me to be, but girls are weird, right? I mean have you noticed how squishy and jiggly and _gooey_ all the most important bits are? And of course they're the areas they really want you to home in on, and, seriously, I do, but sooner or later they figure it out, and then instead of being grateful that I powered on through, they're all offended or something." Jared sighs, and reaches for his glass. "Jensen doesn't jiggle," he says sadly.

"No, no, I guess he doesn't, but I've been keeping an eye on him, and I've seen some stuff, stuff you need to know—"

"Y'know if Jensen just wants to date guys outside of his dumb community, he could date me. I love Chad, I do, but he's a dick, and Jensen doesn't deserve a dick." Jared purses his lips. "Not that kind of dick, anyway. The thing is, we're together practically all the time anyway, and how hard would it be to swap take out pizza for reservations at The Ivy? Except we couldn't hold hands, I guess, not with all the press there. Do you think that would matter?" Jared turns to Gabe, and then waves away his response. "I don't think it would matter. He wants to see what _dating_ is like, he knows what having sex is like. And I'm basically a professional dater at this point so he'd be practically guaranteed to have an awesome time. Kissing though, I guess that is kind of non-negotiable. Can't end a date without a kiss." Jared pauses to picture Jensen's lips, wet and swollen and still eager for more. His cock twitches again in his pants, and he nods. "It would be fine, I mean, I'm an actor, and if Ledger and Gyllenhaall could do it, right?" He nudges Gabe's knee, and almost sends him toppling from his stool. By the time Jared has him settled back in place, the only thought he's managed to hang on to is the fact that he and Jensen should be dating. And that he might need to fight Chad.

He should probably get home so he can give Jensen the good news.

He hops down off his own bar stool, and knocks back the last dregs of his whiskey.

"Sir!" Jared frowns down at Gabe who's scrambling a lot less elegantly to edge his way off his perch. "Sorry, sorry, _Mr. Padalecki,"_ Gabe stutters, and Jared nods his approval. "I need to tell you about Jensen—"

"Not now," Jared says, distractedly, phone already in his hand. He sends off a quick message to his driver, and then bends down to collect his belongings. Adrenaline seems to be clearing his head a little or maybe it's excitement. "Thanks, Gabe, for helping me out tonight," he says, thoughts already jumping ahead to home and Jensen. "Catch you on set, yeah?"

Gabe reaches over and grabs his arm. Jared glances down and then up, confusion and impatience warring. Gabe opens his mouth, and closes it, and then slowly releases Jared's arm as if he's only then realized what he's done. "Okay," he says, reluctance in every line of his body. "Okay."

Jared spares him one last glance and strides for the door. He's got more important things to be doing right now.

*~*

By the time he gets into the house, Jared's buzz has begun to fade and he's feeling fairly lucid. Too lucid, he quickly realizes, as nervous tension begins to build in his stomach and leaves him anxiously pacing empty rooms and feeling vaguely nauseous.

His animals clearly have no interest in helping to distract him; Sadie glances up at him as he does a pass of their room, and then settles back down to sleep. Harley and Isis don't wake at all, curled against each other with the honking pheasant acting as a pillow for Harley's head.

More alcohol seems like a sensible solution, and Jared redirects his path toward the kitchen and a six-pack from the fridge. He settles down to infomercials in the media room, tension slowly draining out of him with every swallow.

He blinks awake to the sensation of something tickling his bare feet. When he glances down, Jensen is carefully tucking a throw around his legs. "Jen, hey, I'm up, I'm up," he says groggily, and struggles to untangle himself from the soft blanket. The moment he's free, everything comes flooding back with a jolt. Jared takes a second to mourn the passing of the pleasant fog, and then stands to give himself a clearer view of Jensen's expression.

He looks good in the soft light, basically the same as every other degree of light, from full shade to the surface of the sun, but what Jared's most interested in is what clues he can pick up about his night out from Jensen's face. There are no visible marks or mussed hair, and his lips seem as plump, but not swollen, as ever. Jared lets out a soft sigh of relief, and with it most of the crap he's been telling himself so far. The revelation isn't shocking or difficult to process, and instead the knowledge just slides into Jared's bones and makes itself at home like it's always been there.

He doesn't want to fake date Jensen. He doesn't want Jensen to date anyone else. Probably ever. What he isn't as certain of is what Jensen wants.

He turns away in an attempt to come up with a speech brilliant enough that Jensen will instantly fall in with his plans, and instead finds himself unable to ignore the question battering at his brain.

"How was your date?"

Jensen lets out a groaning laugh and reaches down to pull a bottle from the open six-pack. He tilts it questioningly toward Jared who shakes his head. He's aware that a good part of his current easy acceptance can be laid squarely at the feet of the copious amounts of alcohol he's drunk that night. He's also aware that drunken declarations of undying devotion rarely hold as much weight as sober ones.

"It was... interesting," Jensen finally settles on.

"Chad's always that at least." Jared's legs don't seem quite up to the task of keeping him upright without swaying, so he drops back down on to the couch. Jensen watches him for a second, and then heads for the door. Jared is still deciding whether he should call out to Jensen or just follow on after him, when he reappears, bottle of water in hand.

Jared breathes his thanks and takes the bottle. It's deliciously cold going down, and he drains most of it in two long swallows.

"How drunk are you?" Jensen asks.

"I'm okay. I think my legs are drunker than I am." Jensen nods, as though that wasn't exactly the sort of thing only someone very drunk would say, and sinks down on to the couch beside Jared and his drunken legs.

"Are you going out with him again?" Jared asks, as if there's been no pause in their conversation.

"Doubt it." Jared is very relieved that he can't pick up any trace of regret in Jensen's voice. "I don't think Chad had any more fun than I did. Apparently most people find his offer of a mid-meal blowjob break delightful."

Jared shakes his head, because surely not even Chad... "Are you kidding me?"

"I really wish I was."

"Shit, I am so sorry."

"What?" Jensen turns on the couch until he's facing Jared, his left leg bent at the knee and tucked up underneath him. "Why are you sorry? Unless that's a line he picked up from you?"

"No, but it's my fault you even met him. I feel... responsible."

"Well, don't. It's not your fault. And anyway, it's not even the worse date I've been on this year; the food was pretty nice."

"It's like I tried to tell you, Jen, guys are guys. Unless it's someone who cares about you, pretty much every date you go on will be with an asshole." Jared gives a brief moment's consideration to the fact that he might be overselling his pitch, and then decides balls to the wall is probably the way to go. "It's like— _fuck, what was his name?_ —Tony!" Jensen's eyes widen at Jared's bellow, and he lowers his voice with an embarrassed grimace. "Um, I mean your carpenter friend from on set. He's the perfect example; sure he _seems_ nice with all the smiling and the baking and the power tool demonstrations, but he's been through half the guys on set. Seriously, he cannot keep it in his pants."

"Are you sure?" Jensen asks.

Jared nods. "Very sure."

"Huh, this is really gonna hit Cindy hard."

Jared stops nodding. "Cindy?"

"Yeah, y'know his wife. I introduced her to you a couple of weeks ago? Blonde, early thirties, about eight months pregnant?"

"Oh, _Cindy._ Sure I remember her. I—yeah, not Tony, I was thinking about the other guy, um, what's his name..."

Jensen tilts his head to the side curiously, a tiny grin edging his lips, and Jared gives up. His brain is working at about sixty percent capacity, and wild jealously is eating in to that. He has basically no hope of pulling off any sort of stealth romantic approach, which leaves him with honesty or begging.

Jared decides to go with honesty.

"Okay, I lied. I didn't know Tony was married, and I have absolutely no recollection of ever meeting anyone called Cindy, let alone an eight-months pregnant woman called Cindy who I presumably had a perfectly pleasant conversation with some time last week. But what makes all the lies and the crap I've been trying to feed you way worse is that I am exactly the kind of asshole I've been warning you about; I'm selfish, and I'm spoiled, and I've fucked up every single long-term relationship that I've ever had. I also apparently have some pretty big psychological issues that I didn't even know I was avoiding until recently, and I'm probably going to need to talk to someone about that at some point."

Jensen's expression has softened as Jared rambled on, and he shuffles closer until their knees touch. "Okay?"

"Right," Jared says on a shaky exhale. The fact that Jensen is still sitting next to him means that this is going far better than Jared had dared hope. Cautious optimism begins to pool in his stomach. "So you needed to know that, but what I'm basically saying, Jen, is that if you can just get past all that, then I think we'd be great together like—like... Batman and Robin! But, you know, with hopefully more sex."

"Can I be Batman?" Jensen asks into the pause.

"Oh. Well, no? I mean I am taller—"

"But I'm older. And Robin was Batman's ward, so he can't be older than Batman. It wouldn't make sense."

"Fine." Jared thinks quickly. He's distantly aware that there are more enjoyable things he could be trying to coax Jensen into doing with him, but his still slightly drunk brain is having trouble prioritizing. "Someone else then; Spider-Man and Mary Jane."

"Can I be Spider-Man?"

"No way! It was my idea; I should have first pick." Jensen scowls, and Jared raises his hands placatingly. "Okay, look forget that, how about if we're like Batman and Spider-Man? I'm happy with either of those."

"Yeah, but they're not a pair. They're not even in the same universe."

"But they're both superheroes, _male_ superheroes with awesome animal abilities."

"Actually, Batman is just a normal guy. His only superpower is his ability to hold a grudge."

"You know what? Never mind," Jared says. "I know you're into comic books, so this started out being a cute way to get my point across, but—" Jensen grins, eyes dancing, and Jared swears. "Are you messing with me, Ackles? I'm here baring my soul, and you're messing with me?"

Jensen leans in to tug him close. "Only a little bit."

Jared wants to be angry, but his mind is kind of occupied right now with how little effort it would take to bend down and capture Jensen's lips with his own. Suiting thought to deed, he angles his head and lets his lips lightly brush against Jensen's, once, twice, and then when he can't hold back for even one second more, he slants his mouth and deepens the kiss.

Jensen tastes of tomatoes and sweet peppers, and the bitter beer they'd both been drinking. Jared moans, suddenly desperate for more, and sets his tongue to chasing down every last taste. He's so caught up with his task that he only realizes that Jensen is scrabbling at his clothes when a shirt button flies up to hit him on the nose, and he immediately reaches out to help in Jensen's frantic attempts to get skin on skin. When they finally manage it, they both let out twin groans of approval.

"You're not doing this because I'm your boss, are you?" Jared finds the strength to pant against Jensen's neck, and then bites down strongly on corded muscle when Jensen's thumb nail scrapes against a nipple.

"No," Jensen growls back. "You aren't doing it because you're hammered and I'm hot, are you?"

"I'm definitely doing it because you're hot, but not because I'm hammered."

"Well, okay then," Jensen says. His beaming grin only lasts until Jared repays the favor with his own nail edge and then he puts his mouth to much better use.

 

By the time they've managed to stumble their way through the entirely too large house to reach Jared's bedroom, the last remnants of his beer-haze have been eaten up by a confusing mixture of fear and desire. Just kissing Jensen is hotter than anything Jared has experienced before, but it's been a long time, if ever, since he's been so nervous about having sex.

He knows it'll be good, couldn't be anything else with Jensen, but the niggling doubt remains that he's never done this before, so there's a good possibility he's either going to suck at it, or it's going to hurt. Neither option particularly appeals, but what's worrying him the most is that if he gets this wrong, Jensen might decide not to stick around. It's only when he feels a hand drift softly along his side that Jared realizes he's standing motionless in the middle of the room. A shuddering bolt of lust shoots through him when he looks up to find Jensen standing naked in front of him. He's all long, lean lines, pale skin dusted with freckles and sharp bones jutting out over taut muscles. Jensen's cock is hard, flushed a dusky red and big enough that Jared has to take in a deep breath to calm his nerves and simultaneous rush of lust. _Fuck, this really had to go well, because there's no way he's ever letting Jensen go now._

Jared steps blindly forward, zombie-like, and yanks Jensen against him. He can feel the heat of him burning through his remaining clothes and he reluctantly pulls aways for a second to drag them off, desperate to feel nothing between them.

It's like electricity when they're finally both naked. His cock is already weeping softly, and he hisses out a soft curse when the difference in their heights means it slides perfectly against the cut of Jensen's hip. Jensen mirrors his position, and begins to softly rut against him, the friction sending shudders of pleasure racing through him. Jared's just starting to think everything might be over embarrassingly quickly, and with both of them still on their feet, when Jensen pulls away.

"C'mon," he mutters, pushing and manhandling Jared's ridiculously shaking and uncoordinated limbs into obeying his commands. "No point in wasting a perfectly good bed, right?" he asks, and then he pushes at Jared's shoulder until he tumbles backward. At the last second, Jared grabs hold of Jensen's wrist and drags him down so that they hit the bed together.

"This is why you're such a good assistant," Jared mutters, setting his teeth against the soft juncture where Jensen's neck and shoulder meet. "Awesome organizational skills."

"Trust me, Jay," Jensen says, with a wicked little smile, "you ain't seen nothing yet."

He goes about proving his point with fierce concentration, until Jared is boneless and panting underneath him, heart racing in his chest, and blinking stinging sweat out of his eyes. "Jen, I'm gonna—you need to stop," he groans, and reaches out a hand to tug lightly on Jensen's head. Jensen looks up from where he's positioned between Jared's thighs, pupils blown wide, and his mouth stretched obscenely around Jared's dick. The sight alone is almost enough to send Jared over the edge. Jensen must recognize it too, because he blinks, clearing enough of the lust from his gaze to leave him able to reach up and grasp the base of Jared's dick. Jared lets out pained groan when Jensen pulls back, letting Jared's cock slide gently through his lips, tongue snaking out to wickedly tease the tip as he slips free.

Jensen drags himself up along the bed until he's flush with Jared body, and swoops down to plant biting kissing along his jawline. Their cocks drag together, and Jared moans, feeling his balls drawing up. "Jen, I can't wait, I'm sorry—"

"You can," Jensen insists, reaching down to grasp him tight and hold off Jared's orgasm again. The moan Jared lets out this time is more pain than pleasure.

"Please, please, c'mon," Jared groans, rocking desperately and getting no relief. "God, Jen, can't wait, don't make me wait."

"It'll be worth it," Jensen mumbles, occupied with licking a stripe across Jared's right nipple. Jared's whole body spasms with pleasure, muscles bunching and tightening in a desperate quest to come, and then he freezes when Jensen presses his soft lips up against his ear to whisper, "Wanna fuck you, Jay."

There's a quick shiver of fear, but it's no match for the hunger burning him up from the inside. "Okay." Jared nods. "Yeah, okay. I can do it, I'm ready."

Jensen pulls away to stare down at Jared, a tender expression softening his face. "Maybe next time," he says, and bends to press a soft kiss to Jared's lips. Jared's confusion melts away as their kisses turn deep and drugging, and he's almost completely forgotten Jensen's words until he begins crawling backwards and settling himself on his knees over Jared's hips. It's only when Jensen reaches behind him to grasp Jared's cock—which is very much in favor of the idea—that Jared finally understands what's happening, and he reaches out to grab Jensen's hips to hold him in place.

"Jen, what are you—you can't, we haven't got to the lube yet!" It might be Jared's first time, and he might have been avoiding thinking too much about it till right that moment, but Jared's pretty sure sinking down onto another dude's dick didn't happen without at least a little prep work, and probably a lot when Jared's was the dick in question.

"'S'okay," Jensen soothes, "I've taken care of it." Jared shakes his head, because surely he would have noticed that? But then Jensen is pushing down, and _Christ,_ Jared can't even think about anything apart from the feel of his dick being slowly enveloped by tight, smooth heat, that leaves him panting and trembling and his brain feeling like it's oozing out of his skull.

Jared drags his eyes open, sweat prickling his skin, and watches, mouth open on a bitten back moan as Jensen slowly, so slowly, lowers himself onto Jared's dick until he's buried to the hilt, then he freezes, bottom lip captured between sharp white teeth. Jared fights desperately against the urge to thrust, and reaches up to swipe his thumb tenderly across the red spot Jensen's teeth have left behind.

"You okay?" he gets out, not enough air for the words to have any strength behind them. Jensen moans softly, nodding as he lifts himself up, and then slowly lowers himself back down, long drawn-out groans leaving both their lips when Jensen is fully seated again.

"Big, Jay, God, you're so damn big. Filling me up so good," Jensen pants, and Jared's eyes slam shut again as he concentrates on not coming. It's a near impossible task; he's been so close for so long, and nothing has ever been this tight, this hot, this perfect.

Quickly, surely too quickly, Jensen is lifting and lowering himself in a steady rhythm, breath punched out of him every time his ass smacks down against Jared's thighs. He's glowing, a sheen of sweat highlighting all the hard angles and soft planes of his body as he works himself hard on Jared's cock, and then he leans back to adjust the angle. His breath stutters as he gets it just right, and then he lets out a whimpering sound and speeds up. Jared's grip tightens on Jensen's hips, just to feel that satiny flesh beneath hands, because Jensen definitely needs no urging. 

Jared has never experienced anything like it before, and the intense pleasure of Jensen's clenching muscles fluttering tightly around his aching cock is sending sharp snaps of electric heat singing along his nerve endings. When Jensen reaches out to grasp his own dick, pumping it in time to the rough, jolting thrusts, Jared wants to knock his hand away and replace it with his own, but he needs to keep all his focus on not coming. Jared settles instead for sliding his palms up Jensen's chest, trailing them softly along his sides and the hollow of his back, and then reaching out with his thumb and forefinger to roughly tug at Jensen's nipples.

At the first touch, Jensen howls, impaled on Jared's dick, his inner muscles clenching and unclenching frantically, and then he lifts up and slams back down, hard, thick come shooting from his dick to coat his own and Jared's stomach with the milky white fluid. Jensen's still shuddering, weakly shooting, when Jared rolls him beneath him, and begins pumping furiously, cock slamming home with each rough, jolting thrust until Jared's coming too, deep in Jensen's body and still struggling to get deeper still. He rocks gently through the aftershocks, feeling his come ooze thickly around his dick and start seeping out of Jensen's hole. When he finally begins to soften, he slows and then pulls out, a sharp hiss of air escaping him as his oversensitve dick slips free. 

Beneath him, Jensen is still breathing heavily, limbs spread limp across the bed like a starfish, a half smile tilting his lips in blissed-out pleasure. His eyes are closed, soft blue veins visible through the fluttering, fragile skin. Jared bends to press a soft kiss to each eyelid, and then to Jensen's gently parted lips, before rolling to the side and pulling Jensen with him.

The touch seems to revive Jensen slightly and he blinks tiredly up at Jared, gaze filled with soft warmth.

"That was awesome," Jensen says sleepily, "but so not in my job description. In the morning, we are definitely going to talk about a raise."

Jared feels a huge grin spread over his face, a fierce jolt of happiness making his heart turn over in his chest. "Sure, Jen," he says. "First thing we'll do."

Jensen reaches up and buries his hand in Jared's hair to pull him down into a soft, sleepy kiss that still leaves Jared panting. "Okay," he amends breathlessly, "maybe the second."

*~*

As the weeks pass, and Jensen just keeps twining himself seamlessly closer and closer into the fabric of Jared's life, Jared waits patiently for his freak-out to hit. He's pretty sure there should be one. Before that first night with Jensen, he'd never even kissed a guy, let alone had sex with one. Okay, there were obviously underlying reasons for that way beyond the most logical, and incorrect, interpretation that he's not gay or even bi. But the simple fact is that Jared's had it drummed into his head from an early age by his mother, his agent and his publicist that image is everything. He's spent most of his adult life living under a microscope, and his new nighttime (and daytime and every other time) activities alone should be causing at least some vague stirrings of panic about the consequences of discovery.

Instead, Jared is left with the amazingly freeing realization that he just doesn't care any more.

Jensen, however, is much less ready to join Jared in throwing caution to the winds, and he keeps insisting they have to be careful. As much as Jared wants to let the world know that they're together, deep down he knows, for now at least, that Jensen's right.

Jared also knows that he doesn't intend for it to always be like this; as soon as the show is out, hit or not, he's coming out, too.

He hasn't told Jensen because he doesn't want him to worry, but Jared's already met with his publicist to discuss how best to handle it. After endless attempts to talk him out of it, and furious rants from Chad about how he's taking money out of _both_ of their pockets, they have a plan that they're all reasonably happy with. 

Jared's planning on sharing the news with Jensen over dinner that evening, followed hopefully by sex until dawn, but the shoot's running long, and by the time the director calls a wrap, Jared's buzzing with frustration. Jensen seems to have picked up on his mood and is equally desperate, and by unspoken agreement they head for Jared's trailer and the relative privacy it provides. 

Unfortunately, those plans are derailed when they arrive to find the area where the trailers are housed awash with crew for another show's night shoot. The trailers being used as backdrop for a scene, and cameras and lighting are being set up everywhere. Jared considers for a second breezing by and marching straight in; it's not like they're going to be filming _inside_ his trailer, but then common sense prevails. He might be coming out, but he doesn't want to risk his family finding out by seeing his naked ass on _Entertainment Tonight_ , so he reluctantly allows Jensen to pull him away.

His pout lasts right up until Jensen leads him to the middle of one of their own empty sets, quiet and separate from the hustle and bustle they left behind.

"Jen?" he asks, then moans when Jensen pushes in close and reaches up to capture his lips in a kiss. "God," he pulls away to says raggedly. "I just can't get enough of you. Won't ever be able to—we're in the middle of a freaking _TV set_ —" He temporarily loses his train of thought when Jensen reaches round to squeeze his ass, strong fingers kneading the taut muscle. "God," he says again. "You are just—I've never felt like this before. I never want to feel like this with anyone else."

Up till then, most of Jensen's attention has been focused on extracting Jared from the button-down shirt he's wearing, but at Jared's hoarse words he pulls briefly away to stare up at him, joy radiating from his face. "Good," Jensen says, deep satisfaction in his voice. "Because I'd hate if it was just me." The words tug at Jared's insides, sending something hot and primal surging through his veins. He reaches out to haul Jensen against him, and steps him backward across the studio floor.

The set is one they use for the interior of the Stephens' bedroom, partially taken down now, but the furniture, and more important the bed, is still in place. It's pushed back into an alcove, out of sight of the rest of the room and impossible to see from the main walkway. Perfect for what Jared needs.

"Is this okay?" Jared thinks to ask as he drags Jensen down with him onto the bed. 

"I'm the one who couldn't wait twenty minutes till we got home—what do you think?"

By now, Jared isn't thinking much of anything, and it's all the permission he needs to start stripping Jensen efficiently out of his clothes and pressing him back into the soft mattress. He's basically lost to everything right up until Jensen reaches up and clutches at his shoulder. He ignores it, because he is getting pretty damn good at blowjobs if he says so himself, and he assumes Jensen doesn't know what he's grabbing at right then, but then Jensen digs his thumb into the muscles of Jared's shoulder, sending pain shooting down his arm.

"Fuck, Jen, what the hell?" he grumbles, lifting up to rub some feeling back into his aching limb.

"I think there's someone out there," Jensen hisses, and Jared freezes. He still has his pants on, although they're unbuttoned and pushed down around his ass, so he quickly drags them back into place and clambers up off the bed, doing his best to hide Jensen's—far less clothed—form from view.

With his new height advantage, Jared can see immediately that Jensen is right—someone is there, a very familiar someone in the shape of Gabe standing not five feet away from them, shifting from side to side awkwardly.

"Gabe, for fuck's sake," Jared moans, and pushes a shaky hand through his hair. "If you're about to ask me if I want a cup of freaking coffee, I swear to God—"

"I'm not!" Gabe says immediately. "I just, I really need to talk to you, Mr. Padalecki."

Jared lets out a disbelieving snort. "You're kidding, right?"

"Um, no, it's... it's really important, sir."

"Trust me, it isn't. Go home, Gabe," Jared instructs.

"No, sir, you don't understand it's about Jensen—"

"What about me?" Jensen asks, already climbing out of the rumpled bed. He's far too naked for Jared's liking when there's someone else around, so Jared does a little shuffling move in an attempt to keep the moving target Jensen has become covered.

"Nothing," Jared growls, and Jensen pinches lightly at his waist in complaint.

"No, no, it _is_ something! Something important! I've been watching him when you weren't around and—"

"What? You're stalking Jensen now? Seriously, Gabe, this is so not cool—"

"He's a witch!"

Jared lets out a startled laugh, because he definitely wasn't expecting that, and then yelps when Jensen pinches him harder. "Ouch, fuck, okay, okay. Gabe, I didn't mean to laugh at you, but seriously, you need some help. You're getting all mixed up with what's happening on the show. Witches don't exist; Samantha and Darrin aren't real." He waves his arm at the partially constructed room they're standing in. "None of this is real."

"No, you don't understand. I know this is fake, that you're all just actors, but Jensen is different. I swear, sir, he's a witch!"

"Jared, let me talk to him," Jensen says quietly, but Jensen is still mostly naked, Gabe is plainly beyond reasoning, and Jared's patience has just about run out.

"Christ, Gabe, enough of this crap! You're acting like a fucking madman!" Jared turns, determined to find something to cover Jensen with while they deal with the crazy situation, and to his relief finds Jensen already dragging a midnight blue bathrobe into place around him. Jared nods, satisfied, and turns his attention back toward Gabe who's watching them both now with a worryingly wild expression on his face.

"See! He magicked up that robe! Didn't you see him?" Gabe moans and rakes his hands through his hair like he's in pain. "He's a witch, an evil supernatural creature, and he's cast a spell on you! That's why you can't see it, but it's okay now, you'll be okay; I know how to stop him!"

"Oh, man," Jared mutters under his breath. Although he's always known Gabe is odd, but he hadn't realized until now he's actually, officially, out-of-his-tree crazy. He's just considering whether subduing him or calling for security would settle the matter quickest, when Gabe starts scrabbling madly at his clothes. 

Insane Gabe is bad enough; insane, _naked_ Gabe is one step too far.

Jared has his hand in his pocket ready to drag his cell out and call security, when Gabe stops fumbling at his clothing. Jared hesitates, and then freezes when he sees what Gabe is doing: pulling a wicked, gleaming silver knife from his inside jacket pocket. The knife is equal parts terrifying and beautiful, curved and sharpened to a deadly point, the edges catching the light, and the sturdy brown handle solid and substantial in Gabe's small hand.

Jared drags in a horrified breath and steps directly in front of Jensen, shoving his boyfriend behind him with such force that he feels Jensen stagger and slam into his back, sending another terrified breath wheezing out of Jared's lungs. Jared's been in enough action movies to know the real thing when he sees it, and from the wild gleam in Gabe's eye, he's more than ready to use it.

"Get out of the way, sir!" Gabe shouts, flecks of spittle spraying from his mouth and collecting in the corners of his lips. "Enchanted silver can kill a witch, and then his spell will be broken forever!"

"No, Gabe, no," Jared says desperately. "Jensen isn't a witch, there's no such _thing_ as witches for fuck's sake! You aren't thinking straight right now, but we can get you some help. You just need some help." Jared lowers his voice, keeping it as even and calm as he can, and trying to hide as much of Jensen behind him as possible. Maybe if he's out of Gabe's sight—

"You can't see it because he's put a spell on you, but if you just let me do this, I can save you! You'll see once you're free, sir," Gabe repeats, "the spell will die with the witch! Trust me, you _have_ to trust me."

"Fuck," Jensen says from just to the right of him. Jared glares down when he sees Jensen desperately trying to edge around Jared's larger form to see what's happening. "Is that—oh my god, Gabe, where the hell did you get that? Only you," he mutters in an angry aside to Jared, "would have a stalker that does his research!"

"What?" Jared hisses back, doing his best to force Jensen behind him where he's safe.

"Craigslist!" Gabe shouts over at them, an inappropriate undercurrent of pride in his voice. "It only cost me fifty dollars. Idiot didn't even know what he had!"

"Damn it, what sort of fool would sell—" Jensen trails off when Jared watches him with incredulously raised brows. "Okay, not important right now, but what is important is that he's right: enchanted silver does kill witches."

"Yeah, I think a five-fucking-inch blade pretty much kills anyone," Jared bites out, because this situation is quite stressful enough, thank you very much, without his boyfriend playing into the psycho's delusions.

"No, I mean, yes, obviously, but why the hell couldn't he have gone with fire? Or water? We'd be fine with either of those. Or even gold, but freaking _silver_..." Jensen descends into angry mutters that Jared can no longer make out. Gabe seems to be holding position for the moment, so Jared takes a second to swing round and grab Jensen by the shoulders. The shake he gives him is small, but hopefully firm enough to bring him to his senses.

"Fine? You and me, my friend, are going to be sitting down as soon as this is over and discussing the meaning of the word _fine._ We will also be covering _Be quiet, Stay down,_ and _I'll deal with this._ Okay?" Jensen doesn't respond, and Jared shakes him again. A little harder this time. "Jensen, I said, okay?"

"What? No," Jensen snaps back. "Seriously, Jared, I've got this—"

"Mr. Padalecki, get down!"

Jared has spent too many years being directed for his first instinct not to be to obey, but he's barely begun to drop into crouch before he catches himself and jerks upright, swiveling on the balls of his feet as he goes and spreading his arms to cover as much of Jensen's body as he can with his own. 

It's a cliché, but true all the same that time seems to still as he watches the glint of the thrown knife as it speeds toward them, rotating almost too fast for his eyes to track. He only has time to send up a quick desperate hope that when the impact comes, it'll be handle rather than blade that makes contact with his flesh. It'll probably hurt like a bitch, but he'll take that over a gaping hole in his chest.

Jared closes his eyes, drops his hands, and gropes blindly for Jensen behind him and feels his right hand captured. His worst nightmare is realized when he feels his other hand touching nothing but air, and then the sensation of Jensen pulling away to step in front of him. Jared lets out a yell of terror mixed with rage, but when he opens his eyes, the nightmare vision he'd been expecting doesn't materialize.

Instead, Gabe is frozen in position, his pitching arm still outstretched and his features twisted with the effort of the throw. Jensen is about half a dozen steps in front of him, and Jared would be wondering how he managed that, except there's something much more puzzling occupying his mind right then.

The knife that Gabe had thrown, the one that had been seconds away from potentially severing an artery, is floating suspended in the air. There isn't even a quiver of movement to suggest that moments ago it had been airborne, or any method, as far as Jared can see, of keeping it that way.

Jensen is circling the floating knife, a look of disgust on his face. He startles when Jared approaches and halts his pacing to lift his hand to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck.

"Shit, Jared, this is fucked up, I know. And I'm sorry, I didn't—I didn't want you to find out like this. God, I wasn't sure for a while I wanted you to find out at all, but maybe... maybe it's for the best?"

His voice goes up at the end questioningly, but Jared isn't quite ready yet for whatever conversation Jensen is starting.

"Fuck me," he murmurs, and then again, more loudly: "Fuck me. How is it—is it...?" He raises his hand and circles it around the knife, looking for wire or whatever the hell it is that's holding it up. Finding nothing, he gingerly grabs hold of the handle of the knife. "How the hell is it doing this? Magnets?" he turns to ask Jensen, and finds him in the process of tugging his clothes back on. Jared returns his attention back to the knife. He takes a firmer grip on the handle, and uses his other hand to jiggle the blade with the tips of his fingers. "I saw an episode of Mythbusters once, I think, about how opposing magnets can make metal float, but I'm pretty sure it only worked when the whole thing was made of metal." Jared adjusts his stance so he can put some real effort into pulling the knife out of the air. It doesn't budge an inch. "I don't think it was supposed to be this strong," he says. "Not unless it was some monster fucking magnets."

"Jared," Jensen says carefully, and reaches up to pull Jared's hands away from the knife. "It's not a magnet."

"Then what?" Jared demands. He very carefully keeps his gaze focused on Jensen. It's taking a lot more effort than he's happy with to control his breathing, and he does his best to concentrate on his acting coach's lessons on breath technique and not on the growing sadness in Jensen's eyes.

"I think you know." Jensen jerks his head toward Gabe who's still frozen in position across the room from them.

"I don't," Jared says quickly. "I really don't. Should we—should we go home now, Jensen? No wait, we need to get security, call the cops. Tell them Gabe's gone insane." He glances at Gabe, and hastily away. "Who'd have thought one little guy could fit so much crazy inside him?"

He looks up at Jensen to share the joke and finds him staring silently back. "Fuck, Jensen," he finally mutters and drags his hands through his hair. He repeats the action twice more before he feels confident enough his voice won't shake to pieces when he tries to talk. "Tell me this isn't true."

"I can't, Jared, I'm sorry—" Jensen reaches out a hand toward him, and Jared jerks away as though burned. Jensen makes a pained sound and pulls his hand back to bury it deep in the pocket of his jeans. He hunches in on himself, his normal easy confidence gone, replaced by a stiff awareness that Jared can see he's only just managing to hang on to. Jared feels a burning urge to reach out and pull Jensen into a hug, tell him it'll all be okay, but then he catches sight of the knife and suddenly nothing is okay.

"Sorry?" he repeats, and throws his hands into the air. "You're sorry? Are you telling me, seriously telling me that you're a fucking witch?"

"No," Jensen snaps, and Jared feels a second's wild hope before Jensen crushes it underfoot. "I'm a warlock. Men are warlocks, women are witches."

"Great, that's great, Jensen, thanks for clearing that up. I feel much better knowing I've been fucking a fucking _warlock_." Jensen flinches, and something inside of Jared cringes along with him when he hears the words, but compared with the terrified confusion running through his veins, it isn't enough to stop him. He doesn't know if there's anything that could do that right now.

And then the words really register, and the terror blows any confusion he was feeling out of the water. "Oh my god, I've been fucking you," Jared breathes. Jensen pales, until his freckles are the only color left in his face. "Am I gonna get pregnant? Oh god, I cannot get pregnant! I would not look good in maternity pants, Jensen—have you seen my hips? And my abs, my beautiful, rock-solid abs would never be the same again!"

Jensen lets out a shaky laugh and rubs a not quite steady hand across his forehead. "Pregnant? You remember that I was the one getting fucked, right? Shouldn't you be worried that warlocks can get pregnant?"

Jared scowls. "Yeah, well, excuse me for not knowing the specifics of magical anatomy! Didn't really come up in sex ed, y'know? And what does that mean anyway, could I have gotten you pregnant? Jesus, Jensen, we haven't been using condoms! You said you were clean—"

"And I am, trust me."

"Oh, sure, _now_ you want me to trust you, five minutes after you give yourself away and I know all your twisted little secrets!"

Jensen straightens to his full height, a flush of color blooming high on his cheekbones. "I'm not ashamed of what I am, Jared."

Even through the wild storm of see-sawing emotions blanketing any rational thought, Jared still has enough clarity to notice how hot Jensen looks. How much he wants to bite and lick at his lips, and let Jensen do the same to him—his dick is just starting to pay attention when another thought hits him with enough force that he actually takes a step back in surprise.

"You did this," he breathes softly. 

"What?" Jensen demands, his plush lips hardening in an angry line. "What other unforgivable crime do you think I've committed now exactly?"

"You made me gay for you!" Jensen's jaw drops, and he stares back at Jared through stunned green eyes. The honest bewilderment in his gaze makes Jared pause, before he reminds himself that Jensen is a witch. A lying witch who had a million opportunities to tell him the truth and never took one of them. Obviously he can't believe a single thing Jensen says now.

"I made you gay?" Jensen asks carefully. "You don't think that maybe your desire to stick your cock in my ass might have had a little more to do with it than anything I did?"

"Hey, my cock was perfectly happy with where I'd been sticking it until I met you, and then suddenly all it's interested in is Jensen's ass, so don't try to tell me you didn't cast some sort of spell on me!"

Jensen opens his mouth, and then closes it with a snap. The huge room is silent. In the distance Jared can hear the noise of a TV set, workmen hammering, and the whine of power tools as they break sets and build new ones. An endless cycle of destruction and renewal. Jensen shakes his head sadly, drops his gaze to the floor. Jared sucks in a deep breath and fights the urge to reach for him, tells himself it's all part of whatever enchantment Jensen placed on him, and waits.

Eventually Jensen lifts his head, and Jared feels like he's taken a sucker-punch to the solar plexus. Jensen seems almost translucent in the harsh light streaming in over the set walls above. There's a too bright sheen in the unnatural green of his eyes, but his gaze doesn't waver when he fixes it on Jared.

Jared has a sudden sensation of impending doom, and he reaches out a hand toward Jensen. This time, Jensen is the one who back-steps, and when Jared tries to follow him, he finds his feet stuck to the floor. "Jensen, what the hell—?"

"Okay, that one _is_ me," Jensen says, smile weak. "Sorry, but I think I'm allowed a free pass right about now, although you probably won't agree."

"Jen, listen, whatever you're doing here—"

"Don't worry, nothing that you can object to, I don't think. See, I should have told you before, and I didn't because I fell in love with you and I was afraid if you knew what I was, you'd look at me differently. And I guess I was right about that if nothing else."

"Jensen, goddamn it," Jared says desperately, "let me go!"

Jensen shakes his head. "I will, just—just give me a minute, okay?" Jared opens his mouth, angry words ready to spring free, and Jensen sighs, waves his hand, and Jared feels a cool rush of air hit his throat. He tries to say something and feels the words vanish as soon they leave his mouth. "Guess you were right about me, huh?" Jensen says, but he doesn't look particularly contrite. "I am kind of spell-happy once I get going."

Jared growls, about the only sound he can get out, and Jensen looks pained. "Right, sorry, I'll make it quick—I didn't put a spell on you to make you think you were gay, and I'm sorry if that's not what you were hoping to hear. Whatever you are, Jared, that's all you, and frankly I don't think it's anything you need to be ashamed of. But I guess that's not my place to say now. Maybe it never was." 

Jensen walks over toward the still-floating knife and plucks it out of the air by the handle. He pulls a small, leather cloth from his pocket and carefully wraps the blade in it before crumpling the entire thing in his hand, like the same trick Jared has seen about a million magicians do before. Except this time he knows there's no trick, and Jensen really has just taken a knife and magicked it out of existence.

Jared's eyes round as Jensen makes his way over to stand in front of him, head tilted to one side and eyes flickering over his features as though he's memorizing them. "You probably won't believe me, but there's no spell that can make someone love you. Infatuation, sure, but it doesn't last long, and the affects are fleeting. I'm pretty sure I didn't do that, but I've never loved a mortal before. Maybe, accidentally..." Jensen shrugs, the movement casual even though the rest of his tensely held body is anything but. "Anyway, just in case... I release you from any spells cast upon you, Jared, by my hand or another's." Jared feels a soft warmth rushing through him, and renews his attempts to free himself.

"Okay, just so you know," Jensen says, suddenly business-like. "I'm going to erase Gabe's memory. Of all of this. As far as Gabe will be concerned, whatever stalking he's been up to the last few weeks will never have happened, and he won't ever have known anyone called Jensen Ackles. I'm also going to see if I can straighten a few things out in the poor guys head while I'm at it; there really are a few too many loose screws up there." 

Jared feels his heart begin thundering in his chest, terrified by the possibility that Jensen will erase himself from Jared's memory at the same time. Jensen seems to know what he's thinking because he grins through pale lips. "Sorry, Jay, erasing your memories of me would leave you with more holes than a piece of swiss cheese for the last few weeks. Wish I could oblige, but that's something you're going to have to live with. Only fair, I guess, because I can't erase you either."

Jared can definitely feel sensation returning to his fingers, and he watches in impotent rage as Jensen turns to Gabe and touches lightly at the top of his head. Gabe's face instantly goes slack. Jensen pauses before tapping him on the shoulder, and Gabe disappears in the blink of Jared's unblinking eye.

"Okay," Jensen says, making his way back toward him. "Guess this is goodbye." Jared grunts silently with effort and desperately tugs on his frozen limbs. Jensen sighs and reaches up to cup Jared's jaw in his fingers. "Part of me thinks if I'd told you earlier this might have gone differently, but a bigger part of me thinks if I had, I'd never have had you at all. So I can't be sorry, Jared, but I am sorry it ended this way." Jensen presses his lips to Jared's frozen ones, and Jared feels like he's going to rip the flesh from his bones with the effort he puts into trying to free himself. He thinks he can feel a vague loosening, but then Jensen is standing back, and his fingers are withdrawing, too. He runs the pad of his thumb across Jared's lips and then nods.

When Jared finally wrenches himself free and lunges for Jensen, all he has in his arms is air.

*~*

Jared spends the next few days hiding out in his house. It's a weekend, and he isn't needed on set, but he half expects a call for most of Friday evening anyway. The part of the night he doesn't spend researching protection from witches, that is. There's a lot of conflicting information on the Internet. Jared can see now why Jensen was so shocked Gabe had managed to figure out exactly what could hurt a witch. Remembering that fact allows Jared to narrow his search, and he ends up dropping a silver paper knife into a bucket filled with water at the front entrance of his house. He feels a little stupid doing it, but forces himself to ignore the fact and concentrate on finding more things made out of pure silver to position around the house. When he's done, he climbs the stairs and curls up in one of the guest bedrooms, asleep almost before his head hits the pillow.

He wakes up with a jolt at three in the morning to the image of Jensen's betrayed face. He gathers up all the items he'd so painstakingly placed and throws the buckets filled with water outside before returning to bed. Ten minutes later, he's back out of bed and downstairs ramming the paper knife and candlesticks and various pieces of cutlery—that he's pretty sure weren't silver in the first place—into a garbage sack and dumping it with the rest of his trash out back. He also takes off the gold ring he wears on his right hand, because he has a vague recollection of reading somewhere that most gold isn't pure and contains other precious metals.

He's touched Jensen often, his mind shies away from how often, with the same ring on his hand, but for all Jared knows, it had been burning the hell out of Jensen the whole time. It would be just like him to have been suffering and never mentioned it, even though right off the top of his head Jared can think of about a half dozen good excuses Jensen could have come up with to get him to take it off.

Afterward, Jared stumbles back off to bed and finally falls asleep with Sadie and Harley watching him reproachfully from the corner of the room. Isis, unsurprisingly, had been nowhere to be found. When Jared gives in to his need for comfort and calls both dogs on to the bed beside him, only Sadie hops begrudgingly up. Harley turns in a full circle and settles down on the floor, his back to them both. Jared thinks he kind of deserves it.

*~*

The rest of the weekend drags. On Sunday morning, Jared tries the cell phone he'd given Jensen. When the call connects, Jared nearly breaks his ankle on the slippery hall tiles in his race to the kitchen where he can hear his ring tone. He finds the cell sitting in the middle of the large kitchen table. He's pretty sure it wasn't there before.

Almost sure.

He scoops the phone up and pulls up the list of calls made, which is apparently zero. Text messaging history is the same. Either Jensen wiped his sim card, or he never really used it at all. Given Jensen's discomfort with most modern technology, Jared's putting his money on the latter.

*~*

When it finally occurs to him late Sunday night that Danneel is probably a witch, too, Jared spends the hours after midnight mainlining disgusting coffee and waiting for morning to come. He's not quite desperate enough yet to try to call her or, more terrifyingly still, visit her at home, but it's a close call.

When his car arrives for him at 7.00 AM, Jared is up and waiting outside his door.

*~*

The first thing Jared does when he arrives on set is to go looking for Danneel. The second thing he does is kick the door of his trailer closed hard when he discovers she has a late call; she won't be in till after lunch.

When he thinks he's calm enough to risk interacting with the rest of the crew, he closes his door carefully behind him, and then less carefully when he realizes the kick seems to have caused some sort of damage to the locking mechanism.

On his way to makeup, he bumps into Gabe. Like, literally. Gabe falls backward onto his ass, and Jared can't hold back a fleeting feeling of mean-spirited pleasure. If it wasn't for Gabe, Jared wouldn't be feeling like someone had scooped out his insides with a butter knife right now.

Jared stares silently down at Gabe, and then sighs before reaching out a hand toward him. Gabe grabs it quickly, and Jared hefts him easily to his feet. 

"Sorry, Mr. Padalecki," Gabe says hurriedly. There's none of the frantic fervor that had been in his face the last time they'd met; now it's just terror that crashing into the star of the show means he's about to be out of a job.

"I knocked you down, Gabe," Jared points out. "Not really sure what you're apologizing for."

"Um, oh, wow, I didn't realize you knew my name, sir. And I probably was in your way. I do that sometimes, get caught up and don't pay attention. My mom's always telling me—"

"It's fine," Jared interrupts. "Don't let me stop you from your work." Gabe looks equal parts devastated and mortified. 

"No, of course not, Mr. Padalecki. Can I—should I get you a coffee? I don't think Genevieve has arrived yet—"

Jared barks out a sharp, "No!" then, "Thank you," he adds belatedly when Gabe's eyes round in fear. "I can get my own."

"Oh, okay, if you're sure, sir—?"

"Very," Jared says firmly.

When he gets to the craft services area, it suddenly occurs to Jared that he still doesn't know how he takes his coffee. He makes instead Jensen's beverage of choice, green tea with honey.

It tastes as bad as it smells.

 

By the time Danneel is due on set, Jared is about ready to explode from frustration. He isn't sure exactly what he's planning to say, but he knows he needs to talk to Jensen. Just talk. He hadn't handled the situation well, which was an understatement of epic proportions. He's actually fucked up to such a high degree that if it were an Olympic event, he'd be bringing home gold, silver and bronze, and probably the winner's podium, too.

He's pacing furiously outside of Danneel's trailer when a PA appears to tell him he's needed on set.

"What? Why? We can't start without Danneel," he says, jerking his head toward the darkened trailer.

"Oh, Ms. Harris is already on set, sir," the PA informs him cheerfully. "She arrived early. She's already been to makeup and wardrobe."

"Fuck!" Jared snaps. "I've been waiting for her all morning! Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"I'm sorry," the PA glances at her clipboard, unruffled. "I don't have a note that you needed to be informed when Ms. Harris arrived?"

The fact that she's right only leaves Jared even more foul tempered than he was before.

*~*

Danneel is sitting in her director's chair when he gets on set, cell phone in her hand as she taps away at the keypad. For a second, the scene is so familiar that Jared feels a disorientating wave of confusion roll over him. Has the stress of his career disappearing down the toilet actually made him crazy enough that he'd created some kind of insane alternate reality where witches and warlocks existed and he'd fallen in love with—

The thought shatters when Danneel glances up to meet his gaze. She looks seriously pissed, eyes narrowed and gleaming cat-like in the bright set lighting. Jared feels a shudder run through him when she leans over to pat the seat beside her ominously.

For a second, he has to fight the urge to run, until he remembers that Danneel is the only link he has to Jensen because he severed all the others himself.

His confused state is making it almost impossible to settle on an emotion and stick with it. By the time he sits down, fear has morphed into anger, and he's pissed enough himself to not care if he's risking being turned into a toad.

"I know what you are," he hisses, edging his chair toward Danneel in an attempt to cut them off from the rest of the crew working industriously around them. 

"Good," Danneel says calmly. "Then you also know what I can do."

"Don't try to threaten me," Jared snaps back. "I can look after myself. I _know_ stuff, and Jensen taught me stuff, too." Jared can bluff with the best of them, and he doubts—he hopes—Jensen didn't go into too many specifics about their relationship with his cousin. What Jared doesn't doubt though is that Danneel knows what happened between them. The scornful look she'd leveled at him when he arrived removes any question that she's judging him pretty damn harshly for what he did.

Danneel doesn't look even vaguely worried, and watches him coldly for a moment before sighing heavily. She pushes her phone out of sight and twists her own chair until she's facing him.

"What do you want, Jared? Do you want me to leave, too? Because, trust me, being around you is pretty much the last thing I want right now either, but I do take my responsibilities seriously. If I take off, there's every chance the show will be canceled before it's even gone to air. And no," she adds, pure sarcasm in her tone, "that isn't a threat. Just a basic awareness that there are plenty of other failed actors out there looking for work, and at this stage it will probably be cheaper for the studio to cut their losses and start again. And, correct me if I'm wrong," she adds, malicious smile peeking out, "but I'm guessing you'd rather put up with a witch than another flop."

Jared bites his lip because he probably deserves that, and reaches up to run a weary hand through his hair. He's facing off with an angry witch while he's running pretty much on zero sleep, no coffee, and adrenaline. Caution seems to be something he should be focusing on. Unfortunately, all he can think about is Jensen, and that's clouding everything. 

"Look, Danneel," he begins carefully. "I get that I reacted badly, but, Christ, how else was I supposed to react to finding out that fucking witches and warlocks and magic are _real_?" He pauses and takes a quick glance around to be sure no one is listening, and then realizes it probably doesn't matter if they are. The whole conversation sounds like it got lifted straight out of one of their scripts.

"How about with a bit of compassion and understanding for your boyfriend?" Danneel says coldly. "Not a warlock, not a witch, but your _boyfriend,_ Jensen. You think he wanted to hide this from you? None of this has been easy for him, Jared. His whole life he's been told that mortals are bad news, that exposing himself to them and their world would end in disaster, and the first time, the first fucking time he ignores the warnings and takes a risk, his father is proved right." Danneel's lips curl in disgust. "I didn't expect much from you, but I thought you were better than that."

Jared ducks his head, and tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. "I guess he doesn't want to see me?" he finally asks in a small voice.

Danneel snorts. "I don't know, what do you think, Jared? You think that after you call him a freak and basically accuse him of drugging and raping you with magic that he's sitting at home hoping the phone will ring?"

"No!" Jared says. "No, god, that isn't what I meant! Of course I don't think that! Jesus, Danni, Jensen would _never—"_ Jared pauses and takes a minute to regain control of his breathing. "I know that isn't what happened, and I know he must blame me—"

"That's the worst part!" Danneel says, her voice suddenly thick with tears. "He doesn't blame you, he blames himself for not telling you sooner, for falling in love with you, and for sticking around long enough for you to love him back. Jesus," she says, pulling out a tissue and dabbing carefully at her made-up eyes, "he doesn't even blame me for introducing him to you in the first place."

Jared's stomach clenches painfully, and his fingers tighten over the arms of his chair until his knuckles are white and aching. "Do you—do you think he might see me, if you ask him? Just to talk," he hurries to add, "so that I can make sure he's okay."

"Talk? What else do you need to say, Jared?" Danneel asks, voice turning hard as she regains control. "Have you changed your mind? Can you accept him for what he is now that you know?"

"I don't—I'm not sure," Jared stumbles, tiredness making him clumsy. Because up till now, all he's been thinking about is finding Jensen. Getting him to talk to him. The one thing he very definitely hasn't been thinking about is the impossible fact that Jensen is a witch. No, scratch that, _warlock_ , and all that that entails. 

"Then I think it's better that you leave him alone. For now at least." There's something odd in Danneel's tone, and Jared squints over at her, eyes searching her face.

"Why for now? How will it be different later?"

Danneel bites her lip. She looks torn, and all of Jared's senses go on high alert. "Is Jensen in trouble?"

"Not exactly," Danneel hedges. She isn't meeting his eyes now, and Jared's hand shoots out to grab her arm.

"What aren't you telling me? Danneel? _Danneel,_ " he presses, and she shakes his hand angrily away.

"Fine, it doesn't really matter now anyway. Jensen fell in love with a mortal, and, for our people, there are consequences for that."

Jared feels his blood turn to ice in his veins, and he leans forward, pinning Danneel with hands on either arm of her chair. "Consequences? What sort of consequences?"

"Once a warlock falls in love with a mortal, he has one full cycle of the moon to make the mortal love him back."

"How? With a spell?"

"No, there's no magic that can make two people fall in love."

Jared nods because Jensen has already told him that, although he's still stubbornly refusing to consider what exactly that means for Jared's own feelings.

"And what happens if the mortal doesn't fall in love with the warlock?"

Danneel's bottom lip trembles for a second, and then she purses them into a firm line. "Then the warlock's magic will be stripped from him."

Jared pauses, dumbstruck. Two days ago, he'd have said discovering that Jensen was just as human as he was would have been exactly what he wanted. Now he's not so sure. "So he'd still be Jensen, just without the—" Jared mimes a magical gesture, and Danneel laughs, the sound choked and containing no hint of humor.

"Oh, that's exactly what you'd like, isn't it? The perfect little boyfriend, mute and malleable and happy to bask in your reflected glory while the light of his own magic is torn from him."

Jared frowns. _Torn_ and _stripped_ don't exactly sound like painless methods of removal. "Does it—would it hurt to have it removed?"

"Hurt? Imagine having your heart ripped out of your body, imagine someone taking a knife and tearing the flesh away from your bones! Of course it will _hurt_. Magic isn't something we pull on like a scarf or a hat to ward away a chill. Magic _is_ us, it's our essence, the part of us that glows the brightest, sings the sweetest. The part that makes us who we are."

"But then what—what happens afterward?"

"He'll be banished, but it won't matter because most witches and warlocks can't survive without their magic. I'll do what I can to help, but it will be difficult. I'll be risking banishment myself, which I couldn't give two shits about because they'd have to catch me first," she says, fire glinting in her eyes, "but I know Jensen, and I know he'd rather die than put someone else at risk to save himself."

Jared blinks rapidly, his vision blurring and stinging his sore eyes. "That can't—I don't want that to happen to Jensen. We have to do something!"

"Too late," Danneel says coldly. "Jensen's thirty days have almost passed. He's already returned home and reported to the council. The decision has been made."

"No! You said—before you said that it was best I keep away from him! You didn't say his time was already up!"

"It's as good as if you don't love him. What difference does a day make?"

"He has a day left? Danneel, you have to get me to him while there's still time! I have to convince the council—"

"It's too late, Jared. Once Jensen has gone before the council, the decision can't be reversed."

Jared's heart is pounding sickly in his chest, his thoughts veering, searching desperately for a way out. How could he have been so stupid, how could he have thought, even for a second that he didn't love Jensen? That there was a single thing on the planet that could ever change the way he felt about him? He would save Jensen, and if he couldn't— He clamped down on the thought, because panic was already clawing at him and making it almost impossible to think.

"Danni, there has to be something. _Please!_ " Jared begs, hands scrambling to capture hers. "You don't have to do it for me, think about Jensen and what will happen to him!"

"It's too late—the only thing that can save Jensen now is if he sacrifices you—"

"Okay, yes, let's do that!"

"Jared, I mean _actual_ sacrifice; robes and chanting and a dagger through the heart!"

 _Whoa._ Jared sucks in a trembling breath, and then another, deeper one. He's not really ready to die, but if it's a choice between him and Jensen... "I'll do it."

"Jared," Danneel says a little despairingly.

"No, Danneel, I'm serious. This is my fault, I can't let Jensen... I _want_ to do this."

Danneel looks shaken. Her hand plucks fretfully at a bright colored bangle at her wrist. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry, but you don't understand. Jensen would have to be the one to do it. And there's no way, _no way_ he'd ever be prepared to harm you."

Jared moans, a lost sound that has more than one head turning in his direction. He barely notices them though, because he's dropping his head to rest it in his shaking hands.

"Jared," Danneel's voice is hushed and practically at his ear. She's so close he can smell her perfume and feel the soft strands of her hair brush against his neck. "There's maybe one thing we could try."

Jared jerks his head back, only missing beaning his head together with Danneel's thanks to her quick reflexes. "What? Anything, Danni, I'll do _anything._ "

"It's dangerous, I couldn't be there to help you—"

"Help me what? Danni, seriously—"

"You could kidnap him, get him out of there before they can begin the ceremony."

Jared's eyes widen with hope. "That's possible? I can do that?" Jared frantically thinks back to all the action movies he's made, wonders if any of training he'd been given for them would be of use now, and then abruptly remembers that Danneel's talking about him heading off to do battle with a magical fucking foe. It's the equivalent of bringing a BB gun to a bazooka fight.

"Keep your voice down," Danneel hisses. "Maybe. _Maybe_ , but it's risky. And you'd have to go into hiding afterwards. They'd never stop looking for the two of you. Jensen would never be safe."

"I don't care," Jared says, certain. "I'll do it. I can protect him."

"But your friends, your family. You would never be able to make contact with them again. And you'd have to give up your career."

"Danni, how many times do I have to say it? _I. Don't. Care!_ Just tell me what I need to do."

Danneel sends a hunted look over her shoulder and then turns back to face Jared. She studies him long and hard, Jared's heart beating double time while he waits, until finally she sucks in a deep breath and nods.

*~*

The first step in Danneel's plan, apparently, was to arrange for an outbreak of diarrhea and vomiting on the set. Within the space of an hour, practically the whole cast and crew had made their way, stumbling and moaning, out to their cars, and the set had been declared closed until further notice.

Once everyone was gone, she sent Jared home to pack and warned him against doing anything obvious that might give any watching council members the heads-up as to what they were about to do. Jared only risked packing one small bag, stuffing it with as much cash as he had on hand, and arranging for Marie to come and pick up Harley and Sadie. When she arrived, he sent them off with stinging eyes, and then sat down to wait.

It's five hours later before he feels a rush of wind, and suddenly Danni is standing in front of him. For the first time since he's known her, Danni isn't looking like her usual cool and collected self. She's wearing a long dark raincoat, and has her bright red hair covered with a scarf. Overlarge, dark glasses complete the look—which frankly makes her look more conspicuous that her normal street clothes ever could have.

Danneel examines him from head to toe, and nods in approval at the small bag waiting at his feet.

"Here," she says, reaching into her pocket and tossing him a small leather pouch. 

Jared weighs it in his hand, juggling it from side to side. It's fairly light and vaguely squashy to the touch. "What is it?" he asks, lifting it up to take a sniff.

"Poisonous for a start, so how about you get your nose out of there, big guy?"

Jared jerks the pouch away and holds it out at arm's length. "Poison? Danni, I'm not sure if I want to hurt anyone—"

"Oh, relax." Danneel grins. "It's not poison. But seriously, Jared, I'm a witch, and you're about to head off to take on a buttload of magical folk who aren't going to be anywhere near as friendly as me—probably a good idea if you bear that in mind and be a bit more cautious from now on?"

"Okay, point taken," Jared says, feeling slightly stung that he's already fucked up before the mission has even begun. "So what is this?"

"This is what's going to get you and Jensen home. Now, if we time this right, Jensen will still have his magic when you reach him, but he won't be able to risk using it anywhere within the council chambers—they'll be able to track him in an instant."

Jared nods, his hands twitching at his sides, part eager, part anxious, but all of him desperate to get moving and to finally be with Jensen again. "Do I use it to get me there, too?"

"No, I can do that. I'll just mask my magic so they can't track it back to me, but Jensen won't have enough time to cast a spell like that."

Jared nods, fingers nervously pulling and tugging at the pouch. Danneel reaches over to still his hands with her own. "Jared, this is really important, so you have to make sure you do everything exactly as I say, okay?" She waits for his nod, and pats his hand twice before releasing him. Jared feels like a fucking poodle who's just been trained not to pee on the rug. "Now, I'll get you as close to the council chambers as I can," Danneel continues, oblivious to his thoughts. "It'll be busy, and I don't know where exactly Jensen will be, but until you have him, you have to keep as low a profile as possible."

"Right, do I look okay? Will I blend in?" Jared asks, worriedly examining his jeans and shirt. "Should I be wearing robes or something?"

"Robes?" Danneel snorts. "You know this isn't Harry Potter, right?" Jared feels his face flush with embarrassment, and he nods quickly.

"I have a friend inside, Evelyn. She should be there at the main entrance, but if you can't get to her, or she can't risk acknowledging you, you're going to have to find Jensen on your own. Keep calm, don't go charging in, and don't raise anyone's suspicions, okay?"

"Okay," Jared agrees. "What do I do when I find him?"

"That's when you'll need this." Danneel taps at the pouch with a long, vivid-red, manicured nail. "Rip open the bag, and cover both of you with as much of the powder as you can. Make sure you're hanging onto Jensen at the time, and that way if the coverage isn't even, between the two of you it should give you just enough power to get home."

"Wait, that's it?" Jared barks out, startled.

"That's it? Jared, you have to take this seriously. If they realize what you're doing before you get Jensen out of there, then that's it for both of you! Trying to escape a council judgment carries a heavy punishment."

Jared's gulp sounds loud in the ringing deep silence. "How heavy?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know." Jared feels light-headed for a moment, and tells himself it's hunger and tiredness, not stark terror. When he glances back at her, Danneel is watching him with a satisfied glint in her eye. "Okay, that's all I can do," she says briskly. "The rest is up to you."

Jared nods, and ducks his head to plant a quick kiss on her soft cheek. "I guess I won't see you again?" he asks quietly.

"Huh." Danneel blinks, and her face clouds with sadness. "Probably not. Not for a very long time in any case."

"Okay, well, then I just want to say thanks." Jared takes a deep breath, and nods. "I've been an asshole, and I know this is all my fault and you're having to risk everything for me, but I want you to know that it'll be worth it. I'll love him enough that I'll make you proud of me."

"Oh, Jared." Danneel's face abruptly crumples, and she yanks him in for a hard hug. "I know you will," she says, and pushes him away so she can see his face. "You're perfect for each other, and I know you'll make him happy, and he'll make you just as happy in return." A single tear beads in the corner of her eye, trembling wetly before finally tipping over to slide down her face. 

From somewhere inside the house comes the sound of a clock chiming, and Jared jerks toward the direction it came from, panicked. He doesn't own a clock that chimes. "Shit, Danni, is it time?"

"Yep." She scrubs at her eyes, then reaches over to place her hand on his forehead. "Take a deep breath, Jared, and remember what I said."

Jared nods and tries to shut his eyes all at the same time, but before they're even part way closed, he's overcome by the dizzying sensation of vertigo, followed by the unpleasant sensation of his stomach falling away from him, as though he's about to hit the downward slope on a roller coaster.

Jared slams his eyes the rest of the way shut and keeps them that way, with his hands fisted firmly against his face. He's concentrating so hard on not throwing up that it takes a second to register that the sensation of movement is gone: instead, his feet are once more firmly on the ground, while around him he can hear the sounds of people talking and footsteps falling from all directions.

When he cautiously lowers his hands to risk a peek, he finds himself in a large corridor. People are hurrying up and down it, most with tired, unhappy expressions on their faces. He's relieved to see he doesn't look out of place, just as Danneel had promised. He wants to start searching for Jensen immediately, but he forces himself to wait. His stomach is still churning worryingly, and he's pretty sure throwing up in the middle of the room isn't going to help in his attempts to remain inconspicuous.

From what he can see, the long corridor behind him leads outside; he keeps getting glimpses of a tree-lined street through the dark wood, but the door is so huge that it seems as though it's only inching open just enough to allow each person through. The stream of traffic around him is steady but light, and no one looks in the mood to answer questions. Jared hesitates, wishing desperately he'd thought to get Danneel to draw him some sort of map, and turns in a full circle, trying to work out which way to go. 

The hallway is lined with doors, all normal sized but ornately carved in dark oak paneling. Ahead of him in the opposite direction of what he's assumed is both the entrance and exit is another cavernous door, this one reaching up to the high vaulted ceiling, about twice as high as Jared could reach on his tiptoes. This door, however, has another, smaller door set within it that opens automatically as each person approaches. Unlike the automatic doors he's used to, this one is made out of wood, silent and efficient, and shadowed so that it's impossible to see what lies beyond it.

Jared hesitates, uncertain, and then spies a small sign hanging above the door in tilting, ornate, gold copperplate script: _Renewals, Reversals, and Revocations._

 _Revocations_ seems to be written in a slightly different font to the other words, burning a bright, sulfuric yellow, dangerous and repellent. Jared wipes his hands nervously on his jeans, checks his pocket again for the leather pouch, and hitches his backpack more securely over his shoulder.

He has a boyfriend to rescue.

*~*

The sliding doors are as silent as they'd appeared at a distance, and Jared finds himself at and then through them a lot quicker than the original distance seemed to suggest. He pauses inside, eyes darting wildly around him, and is nudged painfully from behind.

"Hey, sorry," a short, plump man looks up to say. "Although you are kind of blocking the entrance here. Are you in line?" He tilts his head to the right, and Jared follows his gaze to what looks like the beginnings of a huge queue. It snakes around, the path defined by pretty floating striped ropes, and stretches in a confusing line almost the entire circumference of the room. And that's saying something because the room is _big_. 

"No." Jared shakes his head firmly. "No, I'm definitely not." He's not sure exactly how much time he has left; he's been racking his brains, but he just can't remember the exact hour he met Jensen, let alone hazard a guess as to when precisely Jensen fell in love with him. From what Danneel said though, it must be pretty much now, which means he has no time to waste waiting in freaking line. 

The short man shrugs and sidesteps Jared to join the never-ending line of people, where he immediately strikes up an animated conversation with the guy in front of him.

They both look relaxed and cheerfully resigned to their long wait, so Jared's pretty sure whatever they're waiting for isn't going to be where Jensen is. He imagines Jensen's line will be somber and much shorter, nothing but terror and pain at the end of it.

Jared bites down hard on his lips, and refuses to give in to the rolling wave of sickness threatening to sweep over him. With fresh resolve, he picks his way around the room. The advantage of his height means that he can see that despite the room being a single space, it's actually split off into semi-defined areas, which presumably match the three functions the door signs implied it provides. Jared can't find any other indication of what each area is for beyond that, and the room is crowded with numerous, unnamed doors like the corridor outside, which is making his search, if that was possible, even more difficult.

Even towering above most of the room as he does, the number of people filling it is frighteningly huge, and a feeling of dread is pooling rapidly in his stomach as the minutes tick down and he's still no closer to finding Jensen.

Despite his promises to Danneel, Jared's about ready to start yelling Jensen's name when he feels a hand tugging at his elbow. He spins round, and his backpack nearly takes out a mother with a toddler in her arms. Jared's muttering fast apologies even as he's trying to locate the person who grabbed him from the surrounding throng. He's embarrassingly close to tears when he feels another tug on the hem of his shirt, and this time he drops his hand immediately to grab the wrist belonging to those fingers.

The woman he's hanging onto is ancient, face a mass of wrinkles and age spots, topped off with gleaming, tightly curled hair. The eyes looking up at him, however, are bright blue, a twinkle hidden in their depths that's shadowed right now with concern.

"Jared?" she asks, and only waits for his quick nod before she's beckoning him with a crooked finger and disappearing into the crowds. Jared lets out a soft curse and charges off after her, throwing apologies behind him and not much caring anymore if he's blowing his cover.

Despite her age, she's quick on her feet, and her tiny size means she has an easier time navigating the packed room than Jared does. Jared, however, is far more invested in keeping up with her than anyone else is in getting in his way, and it isn't long before he's caught up. Once he has her within reach he makes sure this time that he doesn't lag more than an inch or two behind her. 

After what seems like miles, finally she stops, and Jared rests gratefully against a pillar. The old lady really has stamina. "I'm Evelyn," she turns to say. "Did Danneel—?"

"Yes," Jared cuts her off. "And I really am grateful for everything you've done, and I don't mean to be rude, but I'm on something of a deadline here. Do you know where Jensen is?"

She tilts her head to one side. "Of course; they'll just be finishing up through here." She lifts a hand to run a finger along the smooth surface of a door that Jared is almost positive wasn't there a second ago, and then her words finally penetrate.

"Finishing up? Oh god, I have to get in there—"

Evelyn blinks and stares back at him in surprise. "Oh no, dear, you can't go in while they're in session, and there's really nothing you can do to help. Anyway, it shouldn't be too much longer. Why don't you have a seat and wait for him here?" She waves her hand toward a small bench that Jared is also pretty damn sure didn't exist until a second ago, and he abruptly realizes that Danni has left the old lady in the dark. No wonder Danni had warned there was a risk he wouldn't be able to find her; Evelyn has no idea what he intends to do. Jared wonders suddenly if she even knows he's mortal.

"Sorry, Evelyn," he says, impatiently, "but I really don't have time for this. If you don't want to get involved, I suggest you get the hell away from here," he thinks to add, because he might be rude, but he's not a complete asshole, and then he's grasping the door handle and shouldering his way into the room.

As it turns out, he probably didn't need to put quite so much force behind it; the door opens easily, and Jared spills into the room, arms flailing wildly as he tries to save himself from careening over a tall, spindly lamp that's situated stupidly just inside the door. Although he manages not to land on his ass, the lamp isn't quite so lucky, and Jared winces as it hits the ground and shatters loudly.

There's a small stunned silence, and then Jensen says, "Jared, what the fu—uh, hell are you doing here?"

Jared takes in the rest of the room in one quick glance; a huge wooden table sits at the front on a raised platform, three hunched figures behind it, dressed in subdued colors that leave them shadowy and ill-defined against the dark walls they're sitting against.

Jensen is standing up with a chair pushed back behind him, and a look of astonishment on his features. Jared is probably the last person Jensen is expecting to see. After everything he's done, he has no doubt that Jensen would be certain that Jared would happily abandon him to his fate, if he could even be bothered to take the time to find out just what exactly that fate was. Jared firms his shoulders, determined to see the plan through, to save Jensen and to give Jared enough time to make it up to him. 

A hundred years ought to do it.

The men on the dais seem to have finally realized what Jared's presence means, and they rise to their feet as one. Jared ignores them to crunch his way over broken glass to Jensen's side, and grabs him up into one-armed hug. With his other hand he pulls the leather pouch from his pocket and bites down on the laces fastening it like it's a grenade pin. When he jerks his head back, the pouch rips straight down the middle, and Jared quickly holds onto the bottom before lifting it high and upturning the contents over both of their heads.

He closes his eyes and holds on tight like Danneel had instructed, and waits for the feeling of weightlessness to hit him again.

And then he waits some more. Finally, he edges open his right eye to a slit, and peers around him to confirm that, yep, they're still in the same room. 

In his arms he becomes slowly aware that Jensen is struggling weakly, and seems to be choking out words through a coughing fit.

"Jared," he wheezes, "Jared, what's going on?"

"I'm rescuing you," Jared hisses, and yanks Jensen back tight against him, desperately shaking the pouch to release the last few fluttering drops of powder.

He doesn't bother to close his eyes this time, so he's got a perfect view of the men at the top table stepping down from the platform and making their way toward them. Up close, they don't look as shadowed or grim. In fact, one of them is wearing a tie with kittens gamboling across it, but Jared's an actor. No one knows better than he does how deceptive appearances can be.

Danneel's warnings ringing in his ears, and unsure how much time they have left, Jared pulls away slightly, still clinging tight to Jensen but putting enough distance between them so that he can see his face. Jensen looks completely stunned, his eyes deep pools of shocked green. His face is dusted with the faulty magical powder, tinting his lashes and high cheekbones a soft gold that gleams gently in the shadowed room.

"I'm sorry," Jared mutters, "so sorry, Jensen. I shouldn't have said any of those things to you—I didn't mean it, I was just shocked, you know? No," he admits honestly, because he owes Jensen the truth, and anyway, he won't be around for long enough to be embarrassed by it, "not shocked, _terrified_. I know it's stupid, and I'm an enormous pussy, but Christ, Jensen, witchcraft? How the fuck is that even possible? But it was just for a second, okay, maybe a few hours, but I'm over it now. I don't care if you're a werewolf or Bigfoot or the fucking Lock Ness monster—I love you, and I really wish you would forgive me, but if you can't I just needed you to know that before—"

A sudden movement catches his eye, and Jared sees one of the men in front of him, _fucking Kitten-Tie_ , reach into his front suit pocket and pull out a freaking _wand._ Jared glances down to find Jensen staring up at him, mouth opening and closing like an adorable fish, and Jared swoops down to capture his gold-dusted lips with his own.

Jensen resists for a second, and then melts into him with a moan. Jared tries to keep it tender, soft, but the sweet taste and feel of Jensen in his arms again, maybe for the last time, washes over him, and he crushes him tight, biting and sucking and thrusting his tongue into Jensen's mouth to tangle with his own.

The kiss seems to go on forever, before Jared realizes "seems" probably isn't the right word because he actually _is_ getting a little short of breath. He eases away, dips immediately back down because he isn't ready to let Jensen go just yet, and notices that the room is a lot brighter than it was before.

He edges back a little, and Jensen chases his lips, so it takes another few moments before he remembers there was something strange going on. This time when he pulls back, he twists his head to take in the room, which is decidedly more cheerful than it had been when he'd first arrived. Then he notices the repaired lamp, and realizes he'd probably taken about forty percent of the room's lighting out when he'd smashed it.

Kitten-Tie is watching them from under furrowed brows. "Mr. Ackles?" he says, and then lets out a small cough when Jensen just stares dreamily up at Jared.

"Um, Mr. Ackles, do you need to reschedule?"

Jared glances around him, noticing the cheery painting on the wall to his left, the fire exit diagram across from it, and the _pen_ in Kitten-Tie's hand.

"Mr. Ackles." Kitten-Tie is firmer this time, and Jensen straightens in Jared's arms to look over at him. Jared drops his own arms to his side, and hears the little leather pouch hit the ground with a dull thud. He kicks it carefully off to the side and hopes no one notices.

"I asked if you wanted to reschedule?"

Jensen pushes Jared away and shakes his head hurriedly. "No, no, that won't be necessary," he says quickly. "We were just—actually, I'm not sure exactly what just happened, but honestly I'm fine to continue, and I really do apologize for the interruption. Jared, too," he says, and kicks Jared hard in the shin.

"Ouch! Jesus, Jensen!" Jensen goes to kick him again, and Jared dances back out of reach. "Um, I mean I apologize, too, your... honor?" He adds a little bow to the end to be safe, and bites back a yelp when Jensen kicks him again. 

"Wait outside," Jensen hisses, and Jared freezes, because he isn't sure quite what's going on here, but he's still not convinced they're completely out of the woods yet. Jensen obviously reads his indecision in his face, because his expression softens and he reaches out to squeeze Jared's hand in his. "Seriously, Jared, I'm nearly done here, and I don't want to have to come back and face that line again tomorrow. Just wait for me outside—we'll talk as soon as I get out."

"You'll still have your magic?" Jared checks, just to be sure.

Jensen blinks, and then nods. "What? Yeah, sure, if you'll get out of here and let me finish up getting my license renewed."

"Renewed?" Jared asks, a horrible certainty growing within him. Jensen nods, and Jared swallows hard. "Okay," he says, fighting back the humiliation that's clawing at his insides. Despite it, or perhaps because of it, Jared bends down for one last kiss. Just in case Jensen remembers he was mad at him when he gets out and Jared doesn't get the chance again for a while.

He heads back for the door, mindful of the lamp this time and sketches a quick wave and mouths _Sorry!_ to the guys seated at the head of the table again as he leaves. Everyone but Kitten-Tie waves cheerfully back.

*~*

By the time Jensen finally appears, in reality only fifteen minutes later but seeming a hundred times longer to Jared, he's pretty much figured out that Danneel had been fucking with him, and he's just rushed in to save Jensen from the equivalent of the magical DMV. The furious anger lasted for maybe a minute, before he was forced to concede that he probably had it coming.

He's pretty much over his annoyance and happily replaying the kiss yet again when Jensen nudges him with his shoulder. Jared breaks into a grin so wide his face aches. 

"Want to get out of here?" Jensen asks.

"God, yes," Jared groans. He's expecting to retrace his steps from earlier in the afternoon, but of course he's forgetting he's with a witch— _warlock_ now, and in the blink of an eye he finds himself standing in his TV room, none of the vertigo from earlier plaguing him, and watching fondly as Jensen shakes the last of the gold dust from his hair onto the rug like Harley after a bath.

He reaches over to thumb away a stray gleam of gold under Jensen's eye, as Jensen stands placidly in front of him. Jared pulls back to examine the smudge on the pad of his thumb and holds it out to Jensen.

"What the fuck is this stuff, anyway? Some kind of magical aphrodisiac?"

Jensen grabs his wrist and guides his thumb into his mouth, sucking gently. Jared groans, and feels his dick stiffen at the twin points of arousal: Jensen's lips wrapped tight around the digit, while his tongue suckles softly to lick every last trace of powder away. 

Jensen pulls off with a soft _pop_ and grins. "Nope, because that doesn't exist. I think it's just powdered sugar dyed gold."

Jared groans again, from embarrassment this time, and drags Jensen down onto the couch beside him. "You know your cousin is to blame for this?" he demands, and pulls and tugs at Jensen until he's curled up against him.

"Mmm," Jensen sighs happily when Jared starts dragging his fingers through his hair to remove the last traces of sugar. "I'm not entirely sure what _this_ is, but I definitely have to remember to send her a thank you card."

Jared let out a soft growl, and Jensen peers up at him through lids half-closed in pleasure. "It's that bad? Okay," he says, pulling away slightly so he can sit a little straighter against the couch back, and Jared immediately regrets even mentioning the subject. "What did she do this time?"

Jared reaches out and runs a soothing finger across the bridge of Jensen's nose. "Well, she told me that if a witch, sorry, _warlock_ falls in love with a mortal, they have thirty days to make them fall in love back before they're stripped of their magic and banished, which is basically a death sentence. Oh, unless they agree to kill the mortal who did them wrong."

Jensen grins, and then the grin widens until he's laughing, and Jared is staring back at him sulkily. "I know it sounds far-fetched now, but at the time—"

"It's not that," Jensen stops laughing to say, lips still twitching. "It's just that I've barely watched any TV in my life, and you're the one that gets suckered in by what was basically the plot of the Little Mermaid, but with less water."

Jared jerks upright, and then scowls furiously as it all slots together. "It is! Goddammit she was right, she is the wicked fucking witch in this version."

"Don't be mad," Jensen says, reaching up to place soft kisses along Jared's neck until Jared feels his anger swiftly morph into something far more enjoyable. "She's got a good heart."

"Deep down," Jared concedes. "Very, _very_ deep down."

"And she did get us back together," Jensen points out.

Jared lets out a soft moan when Jensen's hands start to stray.

"She did." Jared groans again, and surges up to push Jensen down beneath him. "Okay, you're right, we'll get her the biggest thank you card in the fucking shop."

"Well, maybe not _that_ big," Jensen murmurs, "we don't want it going to her head."

"I don't mind," Jared gets out, only half of his mind on the conversation. "She can grow it the size of a pumpkin—she deserves it."

"Yeah, but now she's in fairy tale mode, if she thinks we owe her too big, she might decide she wants our first-born son. You know, with her being wicked and all."

"Huh, yeah, maybe," Jared says, definitely with other things on his mind, until Jensen's words penetrate, and he jerks roughly away. "Shit, Jensen, first-born son? Are you saying...? You never answered me before, and although I'm pretty sure I can handle coming out to the press, I don't think I can pull off the first male pregnancy."

Jensen grins and stretches luxuriously. "Like I said, Jay, you're not actually the one getting fucked here."

"So does that mean—?"

Jensen shrugs and gets up to stand beside the couch. He reaches up to drag his t-shirt over his head and holds out his hand. "Want to go give it a try and see?"

Jared takes him in, broad chest, golden skin, the vulnerable curve of his shoulder sweeping into his neck, and scrambles eagerly to his feet, a feeling of bone-deep contentment settling over him. "You know," he says consideringly, "I always thought Darrin was an idiot for trying to make Samantha give up all her awesome powers."

Jensen pauses and tilts his head cautiously to one side. "And now?"

Jared grins. "Now I know he was." And he takes Jensen's hand in his to lead him from the room.

~End~

  


**Beautiful art this way:**  
[Art](http://tringic.livejournal.com/35129.html)  
[Back to Masterpost](http://lizzywinks.livejournal.com/17549.html)


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